


Kiss of Death: a Sydney Interlude

by Francophilly



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-04 16:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 41,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3074582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Francophilly/pseuds/Francophilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to But Not Out of Mind in which Jack and Phryne’s relationship developed and Phryne agreed to a holiday with Jack where he was to visit his older sister Cath in Sydney.</p><p>But will this be the kiss of death to their blossoming relationship, will murder and intrigue find them?</p><p>Whilst the story is set at Easter time 1929, suspend your disbelief and consider the context post Series 2.  (No-one wants to imagine life in 1930)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soirée

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows on from my (only) previous try at Phrack fiction. It attempts to fill in some background to Jack's past and the reasons for his enigmatic character in the TV series.
> 
> The story also is an homage to Jack Robinson aficionados on Tumblr who continue to entertain, amuse, inspire, educate so I have included slightly tongue in cheek references at the beginning of some chapters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr alert: Jack leans in a doorway]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters from previous story:  
> Sergio Del Vecchio - young Italian migrant, an itinerant worker in country Victoria, wrongly accused of murder  
> Lombardis, Salvatore and Marcello - friends and supporters of Sergio  
> Isa - Sergio's love interest  
> Mrs Thompson - Jack's neighbour who does for him; has sixth sense about Phryne being the right one for her Mr Robinson

East Balmain  
24 March

Dear Jack  
We are all excited that you are coming and so soon, and bringing with you the intriguing Hon Phryne Fisher. You know of course that anyone who has stolen your heart will be very welcome here and I will be on my very best behaviour. We cannot wait to see you and meet her.

Nev and Pam are beside themselves and have already planned your days with them in minute detail I am afraid. They will be on Easter school holidays for the first week of your stay. I haven’t mentioned your friend to them; Pam would have drawn a picture of you both in wedding dress in preparation, you know that tireless creative spirit of hers. So those introductions can wait until your arrival, and in an Hispano-Suiza no less – you will travel in style!  
Alec will expect you to play a round of golf or two at his club. And with Pavlova currently touring Australia, we have secured tickets for her opening night here. It is to be Giselle on 13th April at the Theatre Royal, so you must stay until at least the 14th. I am sure work can spare you until then.

There is no need for any anxiety, dearest Jack; all will be well I promise. And anyway, everyone knows that if a relationship can survive both travel and in-laws (so to speak), it can withstand anything. Alec, Nev and Pam send their good wishes for a safe journey, and I send all of my love,

Cath

Jack smiled at the letter. He had indeed expressed his anxiety to his sister at the prospect of spending so much time with Phryne. He always thought that each new day of their relationship would be the last, so lived in a constant state of fluctuation between apprehension and pleasure. Since their separate returns from Yarrawonga over a week ago, they had seen very little of each other, but had been in regular contact.

For Jack it had been deliberate, but practical. He had a lot to do before allowing himself a fortnight’s leave. He had to ensure the Crown Prosecutor’s office was well briefed on the Middleton case, all the evidence filed and stored, and procedures in place for Sergio Del Vecchio’s immediate release and the subsequent overturning of his conviction. His hours at the station and in court were long.

The men at City South were pleased to have him back but frustrated to learn that it was temporary and that Acting Inspector Livingstone was to stay on for a few more weeks. The Acting Inspector was not popular and only served to emphasise the positives of the superior he was replacing.

On Phryne’s part his lack of attendance left her, initially, with some discontent that he didn’t visit of an evening but she became captivated by his actions none the less. He would ring her every day from work, the phone calls rather formal and business-like, updating her on the case and the advancement of Del Vecchio’s release. But he also rang her again late in the evening when the office was quiet or he was at home. These calls were different – he was familiar and relaxed. He wooed her: he would talk about their trip, tease her about her driving or how intimidated she would be by Cath, then how much he wanted to be with her, how much he missed her, the things they would do. Phryne was enchanted and found herself looking forward to every call.

Sergio’s release was to be a celebration hosted by Phryne. She had invited Ricci Lombardi and his wife Maria, Sergio’s two friends Marcello and Salvatore as well as the man himself - with her extended household of Dot who had of course invited Hugh, and Mr Butler, Bert and Cec. Dot had also asked Isa Glover who was to travel to the city by train from Yarrawonga and stay for a couple of days beyond, after some earnest entreaties and promises of her welfare to her mother. Phryne had also requested the company of Mrs Thompson, Jack’s neighbour who she had decided was a friend indeed.

The party was set for the evening before Phryne and Jack’s departure for Sydney. It was also to be Phryne’s first opportunity to see Jack again and she found herself focussing more on this aspect of the evening than anything else. Jack would bring his neighbour with him, but she was determined that Mrs Thompson’s return home would be facilitated by Cec and Bert. As she and Jack were to leave on their trip next morning, she saw no reason why Jack would not spend the night with her.

She chose her outfit carefully, Dot having packed an array of her outfits for the stay in Sydney which was to include an opening night at the ballet. She didn’t want to outshine her guests but she was determined to impress Jack, and moderation was not her style. She chose an evening dress of taupe silk chiffon over a silk slip, with intricate beading and sequins that sparkled in the light, and a full scalloped dropped skirt with sheer draperies that wafted as she walked. In her hair she attached a black and gold beaded rhinestone fascinator, and did her makeup prudently with a deep red flash for her lips.

As Phryne anticipated, the ever-reliable Jack arrived early with Mrs Thompson, the latter wearing a gown that glittered from a bygone era, clutching an evening purse rather closely but looking delighted at these new surrounds.

“Good evening my dear and thank you so much for inviting me. Here is a little gift. You do look lovely, doesn’t she Mr Robinson?”

Jack nodded before escorting Mrs Thompson into the parlour, and placing her into Mr Butler’s capable hands. He returned to Phryne who thought he was looking more handsome than she had ever quite seen him and she felt a spontaneous quickening of her heart.

“Good evening Inspector, it has been far too long,” she held her hand to him. 

“It – has ,” he paused between the words, taking her hand, bringing it to his lips without taking his eyes from hers for an instant, “You do look very beautiful, Miss Fisher.”

For a moment both stood inches apart, eyes and hands locked in an embrace that only they understood, before the reality of the party intervened. Another knock at the door heralded the arrival of the Lombardi’s with their young crew in tow, including the man of the moment, Sergio Del Vecchio. 

He was transformed from the cowed, frightened prisoner at Pentridge to a rather dashing specimen of a young man with olive skin and dark hair that flopped over his forehead, flashing ebony eyes and a larrikin grin. He shook hands again and again with Phryne and Jack in turn, kissing Phryne on each cheek several times, stopping only with the descent of Isa and Dot, joining him from upstairs. He was clearly delighted to see Isa, kissing her too on each cheek, doing the same to a rather startled Dot. Hugh, alarmed at such a show of affection to his fiancée, ushered everyone into the parlour where Mr Butler ensured that drinks flowed easily to assist conversation across languages, ages and circumstances. 

Maria Lombardi had outdone herself with contributions to the food and was explaining it all in Italian with a word or two of English here and there and many hand gestures to Mrs Thompson who responded in English, then endeavoured to repeat the Italian, which resulted in their both laughing at her attempts in the process. Ricci Lombardi saw himself as the responsible male and ensured the young men in his charge were monitored when it came to alcohol consumption, behaviour and attention to their hostess.

Jack kept himself slightly apart from the rest, leaning in the doorway to the parlour with a glass of champagne in hand, watching the party unfold, but never having Phryne too far out of his sight. The younger ones seemed to get on well although Hugh, out of his comfort zone, seemed to have eyebrows permanently raised and an ever-present slight blush to his cheeks; Mrs Thompson and the Lombardis formed another group, with Cec and Bert alternating between the two, wherever Mr Butler’s flow of alcohol appeared to be stronger. Phryne kept circulating, every now and then standing close to Jack to pass comment on the evening’s proceedings.

The gramophone provided the background for music and subsequent dancing, and despite several attempts, Phryne was unable to draw Jack into partnering her. He merely shook his head and she made a mental note that this situation must, one day, change. Eventually, Ricci Lombardi, eyeing the piano asked Miss Fisher who played and then insisted on a song.

“Come, you sing Mees Feesher. We dance.” At that point the younger members of the party made loud noises of agreement.

“And Mr Robinson too. I know you play,” said Mrs Thompson. This was followed by loud enthusiastic backing from the slightly alcohol-influenced guests who clapped in unison until Phryne and Jack sat at the piano.

“What would you like us to play? We are no experts you know. And Inspector Robinson plays far better than I.”

“It’s true Mr Robinson plays very well. As long as we can all join in with a bit of a dance,” said Mrs Thompson. “I am a Cole Porter fan myself. What about ‘Let’s Do It’? I heard it the other day on the wireless and I thought it very amusing. Do you know it?”

“Well, yes I do as a matter of fact,” responded Phryne, looking through sheets of music in the piano stool. “Here it is… Inspector?”

When the little bluebird   
Who has never said a word   
Starts to sing “Spring, spring”  
When the little bluebell   
At the bottom of the dell   
Starts to ring, ding ding  
When the little blue clerk   
In the middle of his work   
Starts a tune to the moon up above   
It is nature, that’s all   
Simply telling us to fall in love 

As they began the following stanzas, couples formed to dance, Ricci and Maria Lombardi, Isa and Sergio, a slightly reluctant Dot and Hugh, Mr Butler and Mrs Thompson, then with a shrug of the shoulders Bert and Cec, Salvatore and Marcello.

And that’s why birds do it, bees do it  
Even educated fleas do it  
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love  
In Spain the best upper sets do it  
Lithuanians and let’s do it  
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love  
The Dutch in old Amsterdam do it  
Not to mention the Finns  
Folks in Siam do it  
Think of Siamese twins  
Some Argentines without means do it  
People say in Boston even beans do it  
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love…

To rapturous applause and calls of “bis”, they re-sang the last few verses. The Italian contingent then launched into O Sole Mio to signal an end to the evening with much thanking, hand shaking and cheek-kissing. Isa and Dot escaped upstairs to dissect the evening after the farewells, leaving Jack, Phryne and Mrs Thompson in the parlour, and Cec, Bert and Mr Butler in the kitchen. Mrs Thompson suddenly remembered something she must ask Mr Butler, leaving Phryne and Jack alone.

“Cec and Bert have had far too much to drink, I will need to take Mrs Thompson home. I can’t entrust her with them. So I shall see you in the morning.”

Phryne was disappointed, “Are you sure? It seems practical to stay here, doesn’t it?”

“Not only practical,” he murmured into her ear. She smiled and leaned into him. He slipped an arm around her waist, and pulled her into a kiss, light and delicate.

“So one more sleep?” she smiled up at him.

Jack sighed and nodded, then called, “Mrs Thompson, your carriage awaits.”

“I am sure Bert can give me a ride Mr Robinson, he has said so.”

“Probably with words slurred and a bleary look. Come along, I have to be home to finish packing. Here’s your shawl.”

As she was being wrapped up for the night air, Phryne opened the gift from her, a white handkerchief with hand-crochet edges and a letter P embroidered in one corner surrounded by a tiny ring of rosebuds. The cursive letter P had a serif at the end of the downward stroke of the P forming a J. Was that a J and P entwined?

“Good night my dear. I have had such a lovely evening and made so many new friends. Thank you. I do hope you travel safely and have a really good holiday – I am sure you both deserve it.”

“And thank you for my embroidered gift. Such beautiful intricate work.”

“A pleasure my dear. Good night.”

“Good night Jack,” she said rather wistfully as he kissed her on both cheeks as had all their European visitors and a wink of the eye and was gone.


	2. Matinée

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr alert: Jack gives a polite smirk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter explores how Jack came by a classical education. He knows Shakespeare, plays the piano and can translate Rainer Maria Rilke's poetry from the original German. We know (in TV series) he is from working-class Richmond; he was married young before he went to Western Front (1916) and was already in the police force prior to either of these events. I have assumed therefore that his education was very limited to a public one and in late 1800s Victoria he would have been lucky to go beyond 6th class. The curriculum then did not include Shakespeare, learning an instrument (certainly not piano) or studying German literature. So where did it come from then? I've had a go at this.

They planned to take two full days for the drive to Sydney with a stay overnight mid-way in a guest house in Tarcutta. Mr Butler had packed them a picnic lunch for a midday stop on their first day, fearful that they wouldn't find anywhere suitable for lunch. The Hispano-Suiza was duly packed with the baskets, boxes and suitcases for their travel, leaving just enough room for the two passengers.

“At last,” thought Jack rather ruefully getting into the passenger seat, outside his home where Phryne had picked him up, “Are you going to let me share the driving at all?”

“I may, if you are very good,” said Phryne, looking very much in control, “and you promise to drive faster than a milk cart.”

The early morning was cool with a light breeze and an overcast sky threatened, but sun and a cloudless blue sky broke through after an hour or so on the road. The roads were quiet and they soon left the capital behind them. Despite the ominous predictions Phryne drove fast but competently and confidently and Jack found himself feeling relaxed and comfortable. He sat back in his seat, his arm resting on the open side of the car, his face blown by the breeze and car’s speed.

“So tell me Jack. Why did you become a policeman? I haven’t come across many who can quote Shakespeare, play the piano, and translate German poetry.”

“How many have you come across?”

“A good number. And all of them, bar one of course, extremely unattractive. Now answer my question please.”

“I didn't have a lot of choice. I needed a job, the Force presented itself as having a regular income, a livelihood, possibilities of promotion.”

“But you didn’t want a profession?”

“Well ideally yes but I wasn't in the position of being able to go to university. I think I would have liked it – to read literature or languages but I didn't have the opportunity, we simply didn't have the means.”

“So where does it come from then, the literature and music?”

“From my mother. She was a great reader and encouraged us, Cath and me. A lot of my books are from her. I have almost her entire collection in my study. And she played, and read languages.”

“So your father was different then?”

“Very. He was a labourer, and virtually illiterate. He would read the newspaper headlines, that’s about it. If he wanted to know more detail Mum or I would read to him. But he had a real creative streak; you can see that in the garden design, but no interest in literature or the arts at all.”

“So how was it that the two came to marry? Opposites attracting?”

“I am not sure really. I know my father was considered very handsome when he was young [“not surprising”, she interjected], rugged good looks is the expression I think, and my mother was a young woman of some beauty and class, so there was certainly attraction of some kind I believe. I have their wedding photo - you've seen it too at my place - and they look quite attractive, the pair of them, don't you think?”

“Yes I do actually. But from different sides of town?”

“Definitely, and a religious divide.”

“Protestant and catholic?”

“Yes. My father was a catholic, working class boy, my mother from a reasonably well to do protestant family. Not ingredients for a marriage. Not even nowadays.”

“So how did they meet?”

“At a church dance. Ironic I know. My father and a few of his catholic mates thought it would be a bit of a lark to go along to the Presbyterian dance hall. He met my mother, danced with her, and pursued her afterwards. He was handsome, she was a beauty, they fell in love, well I suppose they thought they did at the time.”

“So was it a happy marriage then?”

“It was happy enough in the circumstances. My mother’s family were furious with her stepping out with my father and forbade her to see him. She fancied herself in love and disobeyed them. They threatened to cut her off without a shilling and to have no more to do with her if she continued. And they carried out their threats. I knew virtually no-one from my mother’s side of the family. So after a very short courtship they married.”

“Sustained by love alone.”

“Or not. My mother was well educated and scholarly; she obviously needed something intellectual to sustain the relationship which Dad couldn't provide. I don't know when love faded but it did, although loyalty didn’t. Dad never forgot her acceptance of him for what he was, against everyone’s wishes. He knew he could never provide her with the comforts or the intellectual company she needed so worked incredibly hard and determined to provide her eventually with the home and garden she wanted. But they had little in common.”

“So how did your mother cope?”

“She had few choices. Cut off from family, she didn't have the protection of friends, no means, and society with no supports for women in her position. So I think she accepted her situation for what it was and made the most of it. She admired Dad’s determination and work ethic. She lived her intellectual life through her books and through Cath and me. So she educated us in Shakespeare, in languages, and taught us the piano at an uncle’s house. He was the only member of my mother’s family we knew.”

“And did he give you the coin collection you exchanged for a bicycle?”

“The very one.”

“So what happened when you and Cath left home?”

“Neither of us was home for that long really. I was married before the war, Cath was home marginally longer but virtually didn’t return to Richmond after her war involvement. Mum spent her days reading. She read all day every day. Then her eyesight started to degenerate. When she realised that she wasn't going to be able to read any more, I think she just thought there wasn't anything to live for, she just gave up and faded away.”

“Didn't you say that Cath’s husband is an ophthalmologist? Wasn't there anything he could do?”

“By the time he was on the scene, he was able to confirm that there was nothing he could do, apart from slightly slowing down the progression of the disease. It was incurable.”

“And your father? Mrs Thompson said he really missed your mother.”

“He did, especially as finally he had bought the house and started the garden that was his way of offering her something she really wanted. He felt cheated too, in a way.”

“That is so sad Jack.”

“You wanted to know what I was a product of, and now you know.”

“So a sad story with a happy ending.”

“Not sure about the happy, it’s a story that could have been a lot worse.”

Phryne’s unravelling of the enigma that was Jack Robinson was making progress she thought to herself. And she continued to be amazed and contented by it.

“What do you think of that spot there for lunch?” she pointed to a grassy knoll ahead, shaded by trees.

“That looks good, yes that will do; and you can bear your soul after lunch before there is any more interrogation of mine.”

“I fear you know it all Jack, my family, losing my sister, war, and its consequences bringing me my fortune, even that dreadful lover in Paris. And of course you know Aunt P and my household. So I am an open book to you.”

“Yes, it’s open and I know the beginning, and some of the middle, but I don’t know the ending and I want to.”

“So do I! Now let’s do lunch.”

The day was now pleasantly warm with a cool breeze, so their circumstances could not have been more enjoyable. Jack took off his jumper. 

“I’m pleased you have done that, that jumper is ghastly.”

Jack looked taken aback, always taking some pride in his appearance, “What’s wrong with it?”

“You who are always so impeccable! Fit, colour, style for a start. That awful contrast ribbing on the waistband and cuffs. The cream doesn’t go with olive green. And it looks too small. What possessed you to wear it?”

“Phryne, don’t be so insulting on the first day of our trip! First my driving speed and now my clothing sense. I thought we were dressing for comfort rather than style. Anyway Rosie knitted it I think.”

“Well no wonder it’ so ghastly. She obviously has no taste at all.”

“Except when she married me,” he responded with something akin to a huff.

“Well yes, I will credit her with perception on that front.”

“Now listen, Cath maybe for discussion after lunch. But not Rosie, agreed?”

“Agreed,” said Phryne with a cock of the head, a smile and a wave of her hand.

“Why is it that I don’t believe you?”

Lunch was a good opportunity to stretch cramped limbs and walk about and Mr Butler’s picnic basket was, predictably, a treat. He had wrapped cold cider in multiple layers of newspaper to keep chilled, made sandwiches, packed fruit - grapes and apricots, and cheeses, as well as some of Maria Lombardi’s excellent crostoli from the evening before. They had made good progress on the road, so could take their time over lunch. 

After a relaxing hour or so, Jack packed up the rug and basket.

“En route Mademoiselle! So shall I drive the next section?” he suggested.

“Very well, but be warned that this is a test!”

Jack gave a polite smirk and put the car into gear and took off, forcing Phryne to hold onto her hat.


	3. Nightfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr alert: Phryne and Jack have a bath; there’s another JPS.
> 
> This chapter has one of those warnings, so skip it if that's not to your taste.

It was early evening before they drew into the guesthouse that marked their half-way point in the journey. It was a white timber bungalow with a wide veranda at the front, set in a large cottage garden. Inside, the entrance hall established the tone for the rest of the house with Oregon panelling on the walls, cosy furnishings in the guest lounge and a log fire place. 

Their host looked at the register:  
“Robinson, yes. How are you Mr and Mrs Robinson? Please just complete this form then I’ll help you with your luggage. I hope you have had a good trip?”

“Thank you, we have,” replied Phryne looking closely as Jack filled in their details.

“Special occasion then is it? Birthday? Anniversary?” 

“Yes, very special I think,” Phryne gave Jack a playful look.

“Right well, this way. There’s the dining room on the right here. Come down when you are ready and we serve breakfast at the far end of this corridor, it is a lovely, sunny room of a morning. Anytime from 7 am.”

He led the way to their room, which like everything else had a warm, comfortable feel, with a large four poster bed, table and floor lamps with soft pale green shades, a small table and chairs by the window, a wardrobe and adjoining bathroom.

“Lovely, thank you Mr Philips.”

“Pleasure Mrs Robinson. Let us know if there is anything you need.”

Jack spoke defensively, immediately their host left, “I didn’t book for a Mr and Mrs Robinson, he assumed.”

“It’s alright Jack. Anyhow I quite liked the sound of it,” said Phryne, taking off her hat and jacket and throwing them onto the bed. “And I do think it is all rather nice here. Good choice Mr Robinson.” She looked out the window, wandered around the room, then into the adjoining bathroom, and looking over her shoulder said, “I am going to run a bath. Why don’t you join me?”

“In the bath?”

“Yes.” 

“Right,” Jack swallowed hard.

“Give me ten minutes. Women do need some time alone in bathrooms, then come in.”

“I will. And I’m not completely naive, by the way, about women’s needs.”

“I know.”

Jack picked up the phone to the reception and asked Mr Philips for a bottle of champagne and said it was unlikely they would come down to dinner. 

He got changed into his bathrobe, and turned down the bed, turned off the main room light then took the bottle of champagne and glasses into the bathroom, where a single lamp on the wash basin stand lit the room. Phryne was already in the bath, up to her neck in bubbles and he noted she seemed pleased with the additional bubbles he brought in. 

“You do surprise me sometimes Jack.”

“I aim to surprise you often.”

He brought a chair over to the bath, poured two glasses then put them and the bottle back onto it, took off his robe and slipped into the bath behind her as she made room for him; then leaning over handed her a glass and took the other for himself.

“Cheers,” they touched glasses. He draped his free arm around hers and sunk down into the liquid heat as she nestled back into him.

“So this is your first time then?” queried Phryne.

“No, I’ve bathed before, but I suppose strictly speaking you are correct, not with you.”

“But with Rosie?”

“What does it matter? Rosie is no more. Why does she have to cast a shadow over us?”

“She doesn’t really, just curious in filling out your portrait.”

“But can’t that wait til another time?” he said into her ear, kissing it as he did so. “Can’t we just relax now?”

They both lay in luxurious silence, Jack holding her close, alternately sipping from his glass and kissing the top of her head, Phryne stroking his chest. He took the soap and started running it down over her shoulders and arms, she looked up at him, leaned back and kissed him. He moved the soap over her breasts then down over her stomach, dropping it into the water to smooth his hands over the soapy flesh. He felt her murmur as he did so.

He leaned over to the chair to top up their glasses and said suddenly,  
“Phryne stop it. I’ll spill this very fine champagne. Stop it.”

“I was just looking for the soap.”

“You know that’s not it!”

“Well obviously, the soap would be soft.”

“Please stop.” He leaned back and groaned, before putting his glass down and wrapping both her arms in his, whispered, “Not yet, please? We have the whole night ahead of us don’t we? And I don’t have enough room here….Oh, God…”

“Oh very well. I promise to stop at your waist – for now.” She relaxed back into him and stroked the arms that were around her.

As the initial heat of the water waned, and the bubbles began to disappear Phryne said in a low voice, “We could take the rest of this champagne into the bedroom perhaps.”

“Are you hungry? I told Mr Philips we wouldn’t be coming down to dinner.”

“Not particularly. We can always finish off the picnic basket later. Now shall we?”

At that he got out of the bath, his body glistening, Phryne admiring it as he reached for a towel and wrapped it around his waist, then took another and held it out to her. In the bedroom he put the champagne beside the bed, then as he climbed in said,  
“Um in that rather large vanity bag you have brought, is there some of that oil we might have used before? I don’t want your skin suffering from too much exposure in the bath…,” 

“You read my mind Jack Robinson.” She brought him the bottle and slid into the side of the bed next to him. “You did miss me last week, not spending a single night with me didn’t you?”

“I rang you every night.”

“I know, but did you miss being with me?”

“A bit,” he responded seriously.

“Just a bit?”

“Yes … this bit,” he said kissing the top of her head, then paused, “no I think it was this bit, your beautiful eyes,” brushing his lips delicately over each eyelid, another pause, “then again, I think it might have been this bit, the high cheek bones,” he caressed her cheeks and ran his fingers across and down her face, “or perhaps it was your alabaster neck,” he ran his lips down her throat as she moved her head to one side to allow him full access, “or was it your lips, your gorgeous lips and tongue?” He kissed her lips, before exploring her mouth with his tongue, his lips soft, his tongue firm. 

She groaned as he drew away from her to pour some oil into his cupped hands, his hands which then followed the curves of her body. He ran his fingers lightly down her throat and neck, then gently massaged her shoulders. He cupped his hands over her breasts and stroked her nipples, feeling her response as they hardened to his touch between his thumb and forefinger. He caressed each with his lips and tongue as he slid his hand down her stomach then down between her legs. He felt her body respond to his touch as his large hands caressed and slid over her, the scent of the oil mingling with the aromas that remained from the bath to create a heady decadent ambiance.

His fingers felt her, swollen, warm and wet as she arched her back and gasped at his massaging the spot within. He watched her arousal as he stroked her, scarcely able to contain his own desire to take her urgently and quickly. He gently put both hands behind her knees and drew her legs up and apart to explore her with his lips and tongue, tasting the salty sweetness. She writhed in pleasure, grasping his hair. As he felt his own craving overwhelming him, he moved on top of her to enter her, her hand guiding him inside her.

“Phryne,” he whispered hoarsely as he plunged into her, burying his head into her neck, her hair, biting her gently as he moved with her, her hips moving in rhythm with him. She put her arms around him, and ran fingers sharply down his back, flung her legs around his hips and cried out as they rocked together, slowly at first then faster as they embraced the pleasure of fulfilment.

They lay exhausted side by side for some time, she lying into his chest and neck, a position she decided she liked very much.

“So not just a little,” he said after a while, “a great deal; I imagined I was with you every night.” He paused and she smiled into him a bit more. “Now, if Mademoiselle is ready, I could offer you some more champagne?”

They propped themselves up against the pillows and drank another glass.  
“That was a lovely idea of yours, the champagne I mean,” said Phryne. “And I am pleased to know you missed me, because I thought of you too. But it is much nicer being with you than thinking about being with you.”

“Well so long as the thinking doesn’t produce better results than the reality,” returned Jack, with one of his slightly raised eyebrows and the hint of a smile.

“Well you are yet to experience what I thought about, so you will have to wait and see. I’ll let you be the judge”.

“I shall look forward to that sometime soon I hope!” he clinked his glass against hers. “Now, would you like me to see what I can salvage from lunch first?”

“Yes, why not. I assume it is still quite early?” She watched his outline in the darkness as he went over to the small table and switched on a lamp. He was a dashing figure of a man, “Even better in the lamplight,” she thought to herself as she looked at his silhouette becoming more defined as he approached the light: the shock of dark hair, the well-proportioned torso, the muscular arms and thighs, the firm buttocks.

He returned with a plate of fruit and bread and cheeses, the return to the bed providing her with an equally pleasant reverse assessment.

“What?” he asked as her looks provided an indication of her pleasurable thoughts.

“I was just enjoying the view.”

He looked slightly embarrassed and sat next to her again, the plate between them, and handed her a napkin, “It’s not even eight o’clock.”

“Good, plenty of time then.”

“For what?” he asked with a customary polite smirk.

“For whatever I want. It’s my turn next to see if you think reality is better than my fantasy.”

He leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes for a moment. She leaned over and kissed him, “You’re not falling asleep are you?”

He opened one eye, “Wouldn’t dream of it, not yet.”  
 


	4. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr alert: In which the green and cream jumper meets its end; Jack leans against a car

Phryne woke with the bed next to her empty and the sound of taps being turned on, and movement in the bathroom. She sighed and closed her eyes, parts of her body still tingled with the recollections of how agreeable things had been during the evening, the night, and earlier that morning for that matter. She cast her eyes around the room and saw Jack’s clothes folded neatly on a chair, her own in disarray on another and on the floor. A thought suddenly occurred to her…

She got up and pulled on her robe and went to the bathroom door, “Will you be long Jack?” she called through. A second later he opened the door, face half covered in shaving cream,   
“No not long, but come in, I can go out for a moment,” he stood aside for her.  
“No, no, you finish. I just wanted to know your timing. Go ahead, no rush at all. Take your time.”

He frowned, trying to work out what she wanted and went back into the bathroom. She instantly went through his pile of clothes until she found yesterday’s green and cream jumper and looked around the room to see where she could dispose of it. “This has got to go,” she said to herself. She saw an opportunity in the small space below the wardrobe and shoved it underneath, before returning to the bed, slipping under the sheets, but sitting up, hugging her knees.

A clean-shaven, showered Jack emerged and he went over to her and kissed her.  
“The bathroom’s yours.”

“You smell of aftershave and soap and peppermint and hair grease, all rolled into one.”

“Well that’s because I have shaved, showered, done my teeth and put grease on my hair. But you can lie in a bit longer if you want to. It’s early. I could go and read the paper in the lounge or go for a walk until you’re ready for breakfast.”

“No I’ll get up, but I will take my time so I’ll meet you in the lounge.” She swung her legs out of the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, while Jack got dressed. He soon tapped on the door of the bathroom,

“Phryne have you seen my jumper–”

“Can’t hear you Jack…”

“My jumper that you disl-“

“Sorry Jack, too much noise in here.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders knowing defeat when he heard it and dressed in an alternative jumper and went downstairs to the lounge where several other guests were already seated. He nodded and said good morning to a grim gathering of gentlemen who might have been in travelling sales, and a middle-aged couple. The men looked back seriously at their newspapers and the husband of the middle-aged pair attempted to do the same but was constantly interrupted by his wife who sat clutching a handbag to her ample middle and asked him about the content of each news item. Jack sat himself comfortably in a chair and took up his own but couldn’t help overhearing.

“What has happened to that woman lost in the bush near Ballarat?”

“She turned up at Kopke.”

“Where had she been?”

“It doesn’t say, but she is safe and unharmed.”

“Out all night and no explanation. I can just imagine,” she harrumphed, sniffed and looked around the room. Silence for a few moments. “What is the Vice-Regal news?” 

Her husband flicked the paper with annoyance, “His Excellency Governor Somers attended divine service at St George’s Church, Malvern yesterday.”

“And what about the Lord Mayor’s Fund. Have they finalised the distribution?”

“Haven’t got to that item yet my dear. Should you like me to get you a paper?” His tone indicated barely disguised exasperation.

“No, you know I have no interest in the large part of it Raymond. What is the forecast?”

“Some isolated misty showers on the coast this morning, then fine and sunny.”

Sometime later, out of the corner of his eye Jack saw her nudge her husband as she looked disapprovingly at the doorway, her lips pursed, shaking her head slowly. Jack looked around to see Phryne framed in the entranceway, one arm resting on the door frame; she was a riveting sight wearing a pair of wide-legged cream pants, with a sheer organza blouse over a satin camisole, and a long-line cream jacket. Rhinestones in her hair and on an ostentatious belt danced in the sunlight. Her dark crimson lips went from a bow to a grin on seeing him.  
Jack folded his newspaper, smiled at her warmly and offered her his arm as he escorted her out of the room and down the corridor to breakfast, leaving Raymond’s better half to pass comment,  
“Fancy wearing that outfit. Those trousers. Now they don’t leave much to the imagination do they?”

“No, not at all my dear. Very nice.”

“You look ravishing,” Jack said simply.

“I do aim to please. And I’m famished. I hope they do a good breakfast. Why are you smiling like the cat that got the cream? What have you done?”

“Nothing, well, got the cream I suppose. Did you see the couple in the lounge?” 

Phryne nodded, “Frightful dress, so badly cut, and far too tight.”

“I was thinking to myself how lucky I was, we were, compared with them, that’s all. But speaking of frightful items of clothing, I don’t suppose you know the whereabouts of my jumper from yesterday?”

Phryne studied the card describing the house breakfast very intently, “What about it, your jumper?”

“You’re answering my question with a question.”

“Am I? This does sound excellent, doesn’t it. They have their own chooks and pigs.”

“Phryne, do you know where my jumper is?”

“You’re wearing it! And it is very nice. It suits you.”

“No, not this one,” he continued patiently and with the hint of a smile, “I know I am wearing this one. The other one, the one you said was awful from yesterday.”

“There you admit it, it was awful.”

They were served their breakfast and offered coffee or tea.

“No, I admit nothing. I am trying to jog your memory.”

“No good I’m afraid. Now shall you drive the first leg today or shall I?”

“Did I pass yesterday? I assume so or you wouldn’t be making such a generous offer. Either that or the jumper distraction continues.”

“You drove with reckless abandon I thought.”

“So another turn of driving, and today I may drive far more cautiously I’m warning you, in return for giving up the jumper?”

“Agreed,” she smiled at him very sweetly and tucked into her eggs and bacon.

Jack paid the accommodation account, packed their bags and secured their boxes, and relaxed against the car. It was a superb vehicle to drive and he had enjoyed it, not that he would ever admit that to Phryne. Being on leave rather than driving on police business gave him a sense of freedom and a lack of restraint that he liked; he mused upon her influence in this feeling of abandonment, this renouncing of some aspects of his character, of his behaviour, of his very nature that contributed to the strong sense of satisfaction now occupying body and soul.

Phryne did a last minute check of their room, making sure in the process that the hidden jumper was deposited in a rubbish bin on her way out. She didn’t want an over-zealous proprietor finding it and returning it to its owner. She walked out of the cottage and saw her car with Jack leaning against it, an arm casually draped along the door frame, the other hand in his pocket, a foot on the running board, his figure relaxed - and he was there for her, waiting for her; she felt a surge of something that she couldn’t quite identify - was it pleasure, preference, liking or something stronger? 

“Nothing left behind?” Jack held the door open for her to the passenger seat.

“No, didn’t appear to be anything. All packed.”

“So you checked under the wardrobe then?”

“There is nothing under the wardrobe,” said Phryne, deliberately taking out her make-up purse and adjusting her lipstick, as was her want when she didn’t want to pursue a line of questioning. “So what shall we talk about?” 

Jack groaned inwardly at her question, guessing that his ex-wife was on her agenda. “Well we could sing or you could tell me an entertaining story, or you could guess what I’m thinking about.”

“No, I don’t want to distract you.”

“You do that already, all the time.” 

“You could tell me about Cath then.”

“All right, Cath. Well you know already that she’s an older, and probably wiser sister, that she is married to Alec, the ophthalmologist and she has two children, Nev who is 11 and Pam is 7. I admire her greatly and we are close even though she lives in Sydney.”

“I know she is your support and confidante.”

“She is. I am very lucky to have her.”

“How did she meet Alec then?”

“Like many couples of the time, in the war. They both served in the Gallipoli campaign, she as a nurse and he as a surgeon on the same hospital ship. That’s where they met, fell in love and then married before the end of the war. Cath never really returned to Melbourne after her service because Alec was from Sydney. Nev was born just before the end of the war.”

“They are happy?”

“Yes, very. I was always envious of their relationship. It is so strong. Like a marriage should be. They support one another, care for each other, seem to be able to talk about anything together. As far as I can establish. I don’t discuss intimate details with my sister, but you can just tell when you see them together. He is a bit older than she is. Neither was particularly young when they met and then married. I think they both felt they were lucky to meet when they did.”

“Did you go to their wedding?”

“No, I was away. It was pretty quiet anyway I gather. After they were married, Alec was back in service on the Western Front.”

“Did Cath approve of your marriage?”

“Phryne, must we?”

“I’ll ask Cath then.”

“She won’t tell you.”

“How do you know?”

“She didn’t overtly disapprove, but she thought I was too young, that we were both too young. But was and still is always nice to Rosie because she was my wife. Enough.”

Phryne felt a slight shudder pass over her at Jack referring to Rosie as his wife. Whether it was a pang of jealousy or the status that she envied, she couldn’t really say.

“So now we can play that game where I guess what you’re thinking. So, I guess you are cross with me for asking about whether Cath approved your marrying Rosie.”

“Correct. You get first points.”

“So now you guess what I’m thinking,” Phryne persisted.

“You are thinking what a pleasant day this is.”

“Well it is but that wasn’t what I was thinking at this moment. No.”

“You are thinking how well Jack Robinson drives your car.”

“Well I was before but not now, so that doesn’t count as correct either.”

“You are thinking that you will make up the rules to this game as you go along, until I reveal what you want me to reveal.”

Phryne was momentarily stuck for words. “Well that may be, but I couldn’t possibly have put it as articulately as that, so that must be a no as well.”

“Very well, you are thinking about my sister’s position on my marriage. You want to make an excuse for talking about my marriage or Rosie, whichever comes first. You want to goad me into talking about something I have said is off limits.”

“Correct!”

“Now we are even and my rules say at this point, game over,” Jack sounded nothing if not definite. Phryne felt defeated, but only temporarily, vowing to discover more while in Sydney. They drove in silence for a while then made idle conversation about the scenery, the car and how she travelled, the weather, the condition of the roads, the people at the guest house, the plans for Sydney, whether Phryne minded that he would go bicycle riding with the children, whether Jack minded that she would go shopping with Cath. They both knew that pursuing the Rosie/Jack relationship was, temporarily, off limits. Phryne also understood that Jack’s gentleman’s code prevented his asking her anything at all about her string of lovers, although as she rationalised to herself, they weren’t really lovers at all, not if she didn’t ever love them.

They stopped in Goulburn for lunch and a stroll around the town before the final leg of their journey to Sydney, Phryne conceding that the drive into the city itself and finding their way to East Balmain would be left to Jack.


	5. Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr alert: Pam is creative

Jack drew alongside his sister’s home and looked up at the lighted windows to see faces glued to them, and the immediate animation of two pyjama-clad bodies.

“I’ll come back for the bags. Are you ready?”

“Just one minute please,” she said, taking out her make-up mirror and making a quick adjustment to her lips and hair. He held out his hand to her and she took it.

Before they were along the path, the door was opened, children clustered alongside their mother were shepherded away and the woman who was Cath greeted them. 

“Jack,” she said hugging and squeezing him momentarily before immediately turning to Phryne, “I am Catherine, and I am so pleased to meet you, may I call you Phryne?” she shook hands with Phryne but clasped it with her other hand. 

“Yes, please do. I am very pleased to meet you too. I have heard a lot about you.”

“Come straight in. Nev, Pam, just wait until our guests are settled.” She led the way from the entrance through a long hallway past formal lounge and dining rooms, to a parlour off the kitchen, with an excited pair of children skipping and bobbing along behind.

“We will be more comfortable in here. Phryne this is my husband Alec.” They shook hands and Alec clapped his brother-in-law amiably on the back. “Do sit down, you must both be exhausted. Right…” Nev launched himself into Jack’s legs and lap, Pam following a little more shyly with a drawing. They clambered over him, his arms around them. He was relaxed, comfortable, smiling. 

“Uncle Jaaaaaaaaaaaaack,” he lengthened the name for as long as he could, “Can we go bicycle riding tomorrow?”

“Yes, I believe we can.”

“After we find the Easter eggs. You are having Dad’s bike. I have my own. Does Pam have to come?”

“Yes she does,” replied his uncle and with that Pam’s face went from frown to elated, “But we will have a ride on our own too, when Pam is busy with something else.”

Pam held a picture up to him, “Look!”

“Let me see this drawing. Tell me about it.”

“This is you on your bicycle, that’s Nev and that’s me,” she said quietly with a slight lisp, still shy of this man she met so rarely but was so much part of her family. She swung backwards and forwards against his legs.

“So it is. I am very tall aren’t I? And yours is very pretty.”

“Yes it’s a flower bicycle.”

“Now Nev, Pam,” he drew them away from his lap, there is a very important person I want you to meet. This is Miss Fisher; she is my friend. She will be staying here too, with me, with us.”

Nev held out his hand to shake hers and gave her a friendly greeting, but Pam held back a little, seemingly mesmerised by her hair comb and belt, sparkling in the light of the room.  
“Hello Nev, hello Pam,” she said, “I am very pleased you stayed up to meet us.”  
“You can catch up in the morning with Uncle Jack and Miss Fisher. There will be loads of time. Now time for bed.”

“Oh please Mum, just a bit longer.” “Yeth PLEATHE Mum.”

“No, not tonight,” she responded firmly, “Thank you Mrs Jenkinson,” Catherine ushered them out of the room into the housekeeper’s hands, with a hug to each.

“Ahh. That’s better. Alec you’re organising drinks? I am sorry about that introduction Phryne but it had to be, they have been glued to the back window for hours.” Catherine was a beautiful woman of casual elegance, quite tall, with shoulder-length wavy dark hair, gentle eyes and Phryne was struck by graceful hands that lay comfortably over the arm of a chair. She wore only a little make up, no jewellery apart from a wedding band, her clothes unassuming but stylish. “How was the trip? The roads were all right?”

Alec handed around boats of champagne to welcome the visitors and they toasted a successful holiday. He was slightly stocky with a bristling moustache and greying wavy hair but a charming smile and a glint to the eyes. 

“You must be hungry both of you. I have prepared dinner, just something simple, as I am sure you will be wanting an early night. I have put you in Jack’s usual room at the back, upstairs. Now while you boys organise belongings from the car, I shall show Phryne the view of which we are very proud.”

Alec and Catherine’s home, Lyndhurst, was set on the tip of the Balmain peninsula, an elegant waterfront mansion that overlooked the harbour. The three storey house had two large wraparound balconies which commanded views to the north east. Landscaped, terraced gardens led down to a boat shed and slipway.

Catherine led Phryne out through the formal lounge and dining rooms with grand marble fireplaces, ornate cedar joinery and high ceilings, and onto the veranda. The view down the harbour was breathtaking, with lights dotted around the peninsulas across the harbour, glows and beams of boats and ferries mirrored in the water, and a huge waning moon and its reflection hovering over and in the water.

“It is spectacular,” said Phryne.

“Yes, I never tire of it; it is so soothing to be able to look onto water, no matter what the season, no matter what the weather, no matter what time of day.”

“Have you lived here all your married life?”

“Yes we have. Alec very cleverly bought here when all his colleagues were purchasing in the east, on the other side of the city. At the time this house was much cheaper than anything similar we could have afforded over there. There is the coal mine and the docks a couple of miles away on the city side of the peninsula; it makes it less attractive than Darling Point, Rose Bay and those suburbs considered more exclusive, but the mine is set to close down and the demographic changing as a result, so we will find ourselves in a very good position.”

“I know you have been very generous to Jack with his home,” said Phryne.

“I was very lucky marrying Alec. We are comfortable and have everything we need. It was no sacrifice to me to give my portion of the house to Jack. He needed it, I didn’t. When it comes to Jack, Phryne, I am completely sentimental, and totally biased.”

“He said you have always been his protector.”

“Yes, I suppose so. There is nothing anyone can say to turn me from my view that he is the very best man in the world. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him,” she paused and changed the subject, thinking she may have said too much, straying into too personal a conversation. “I hope you will be comfortable here. You mustn’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything you need. Do you know Sydney at all? There is a lot we could do if you are interested.”

“No I don’t know the city very well at all, but am keen to explore it. I would love to ride on a boat or a ferry. And see the shops and fashion houses if there is time.”

“Do you ride a bicycle too?”

“Not at all my style. So I am happy to look at alternative activities during rides.”

“My view entirely,” said Catherine, leading her back through to the parlour, where they found Alec and Jack in earnest discussion about the hiding of the Easter eggs for the hunt the next day being Easter Sunday.

Catherine served an excellent dinner of egg and bacon pie and a grapefruit salad, despite her claim of its simplicity. There was something about her that oozed calm efficiency.

“Jack tells me you run a clinic here?” Phryne asked Alec, wondering where this may take place.

“Yes we do, every Monday, including this week although it is a public holiday. We run it in our basement that has a separate entrance from the road, so completely private for the patients and for us. Cath really runs it; I just turn up each week.”

“Can I assist while we are here?” asked Phryne. “I have some knowledge of nursing from my war days. I would like to help.”

“We can always do with extra hands, so that’s very kind of you and we have a very long list for Monday. Jack, you can do bicycle duty if you wish.”

“And you do this all at your own expense?”

Alec responded, “There is a chronic lack of available eye care for many of the locals; the men who work in the coal mine particularly. I am in a position where I can offer treatment to those who don’t have the means. Some just come for general care too. We have been doing it since the war, haven’t we?” he looked over to his wife, who started clearing the table.

“Now Phryne you are looking tired and I want Jack to show you to your room. Please make yourself completely at home while you are here. Get up when you wish, tomorrow will be a quiet day. The children are always up early but the combination of Easter eggs and their uncle’s presence will bring them to life even earlier. Don’t let it intimidate you.”

“I won’t and thank you.”

Jack got up and helped her clear some dishes. In the kitchen, Cath turned to him and said, “I haven’t given you a proper hug. Everything happened too fast when you arrived. It is SO good to see you.” She threw her arms around him and he held her to him.

“Well?” he asked.

“She is rather glamorous, and I like her very much. I think we will be friends.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll be up early to do the egg hunt.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I want to, and anyway Phryne prefers to lie in. So it will suit and then we could go for a bike ride to get rid of the chocolate-crazed exuberance.” With that he wished her and Alec a good night and took Phryne upstairs where they had a large bedroom, an en-suite bathroom and a powder room to themselves. He sat on the bed and pulled her down beside him,  
“Are you all right?” 

“Perfectly. They are a lovely family, Catherine is even nicer than you described. This house is beautiful and that view, stunning. I didn’t quite imagine things this way.”

“And are you very tired?” he ran his finger across her cheekbone, down her face, under her chin.

“I am quite tired, not very tired.”


	6. Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some bits and bobs gleaned from posts and blogs; and my imagination.

Shrieks and cries of laughter penetrated the early morning as Phryne lay in bed, luxuriating in the thought of not having to do anything – a thought not uncommon to her. She knew Jack would be out with the children and thought she might wander down to the balcony below to watch the events. She looked at her half unpacked suitcase and found her black silk embroidered robe and put it on, brushed her hair and went downstairs.

Cath too was in a robe in the kitchen, “I am just making tea, or would you prefer coffee?”

“Tea would be lovely.”

“We can have it on the balcony, and watch the action if you like. Alec is in his element with this kind of thing. I am perfectly content to observe, then pick up the pieces if anything goes awry.”

She took a tea tray outside and they sat and looked down at the view below. The deep blue waters of Sydney harbour sparkled in the sunlight, contrasting the green lawns of the manicured garden, that were terraced to the water. The two children were scampering around looking for eggs with Alec and Jack giving clues to ensure the distribution was equitable. 

“Does Alec have much time with the children?”

“Whenever he can; he works incredibly long hours, he often leaves home before they are awake of a morning, and he is sometimes not home until they are in bed. But with the clinic on Mondays we all have breakfast and dinner together. He has golf on Saturday mornings but is usually home for lunch, and Sundays are for family when he is not on call at the hospital. When he is with them, he gives them every second of his time, and seems to be able to balance work, pleasure and family time reasonably well.”

“Do you think Jack wanted children?” asked Phryne.

“He is so good with ours, I imagine he would be a very good father in every sense.”

“In every sense? What do you mean?”

“Jack is driven by responsibility, were he a father I imagine he would do everything that a father should do and more, without question.”

“So why didn’t they have children then, he and Rosie?”

“Well I suppose it was fortunate they didn’t in the beginning, they were both so young, and goodness knows whether it would have made any difference. Could have made things even worse I suppose. But then there was the war and that changed everything,” Cath sensed Phryne wanted to know more and was happy to relay her point of view. “Jack came back a very different person from the one who left and the marriage deteriorated from there. So if there were plans for children, the war’s aftermath probably put a stop to them.”

“So what was he like then, before the war?”

“An enthusiastic puppy. He was excited by life, accepting, and completely naïve.”

“So the marriage was happy then, in the beginning?”

“I have already told you my partiality when it comes to Jack so I cannot pretend to give you a dispassionate interpretation of the marriage, nor Rosie for that matter.”

“I would like to hear it. I can get very little out of Jack and I want to know. I think I need to know.”

“Well I will give you my views but they are not necessarily Jack’s, only he knows them,” she continued. “They had hardly been married at all when Jack went away. So the pre-war marriage was happy - there was no reason for it not to have been. Jack was a dashing, virile young man and offered a pretty girl on a plate.”

“How did they meet?”

“Through work as you know. I think perhaps Jack was invited to the Sanderson home, for dinner or a party I seem to remember. It was George Sanderson who set it up; he certainly was keen for Jack to meet his daughters, although I don’t remember what position he held at the time, he was undoubtedly Jack’s superior. So with the liaison strongly encouraged by people in high places, a marriage that firmed his prospects in terms of career, it was prudent to be persuaded. Rosie had all the right credentials – well-connected, she was indeed attractive, educated, well brought up, but was (I did tell you this was my own opinion) selfish, arrogant, spoilt, with an exaggerated sense of entitlement. I believe she saw Jack as a prize she had earned for being a dutiful daughter and Jack needed to show her due deference for being fortunate enough to have her. I think she probably loved him deep down, (who wouldn’t?) but everything had to be on her terms, it all had to be one way, her way. Jack, dutiful as ever, played his part.”

“It wasn’t an equal partnership?”

“Definitely not. If Jack ever disagreed with her or attempted to exert some influence in a matter, she would use emotional blackmail. I don’t want to be seen as harsh or judgemental of my own sex or presenting her stereotypically, but she would turn on the tears to get her own way – to have what she wanted, to buy something they could ill-afford, to manipulate things to suit herself. Jack always gave in, he’d do anything to avoid a conflict, to keep her happy and he’d fall for the tears. I could see it so clearly, I’m sure others could too. But she was adept at it, she could choose her moment well, and she did it all very prettily.”

“And the aftermath of the war?”

“Yes, they were still only newlyweds as I said. Jack lost all that youthful exuberance once he’d witnessed the reality of the human condition, all that horror. He came back seeing the world differently; she didn’t want to know about it, and certainly didn’t want to support him – it was a frustration to her that he had changed and didn’t behave as the faithful lapdog.”

“But he buried it all? He couldn’t have suppressed his experiences completely.” 

“Some of it, most of it I believe yes, he buried. He certainly didn’t hide the fact that he had changed, that was obvious, but he wouldn’t talk about what he’d experienced.”

“He has talked to me, a little, about it. Well to me and several bottles of alcohol.”

“Has he? Well that is a first as far as I know. That is very good. He must trust you completely to have been able to do that. He has kept it all hidden for so long, so determined to keep some kind of equilibrium in his life, he thinks not talking about it will make it all go away but it doesn’t of course, it never does. He needs to release it all, howl at the moon sometimes, rather than bottle it up and pretend it’s not there.” 

“He wasn’t completely revealing by any means. He spoke a little then became remote. You might recall the most recent case?”

“The one in the country? The case that was re-opened?”

“The indictment of Sergio, a very young man, a foreigner, wrongly accused of murder - he associated that circumstance with all young men who went through the war, including himself. He wouldn’t say very much, became very introspective and didn’t want me around to witness the dark night of the soul that followed. He didn’t know then and I will never tell him what I heard of his anguish. So he must let it out sometimes.” 

“I am pleased he has done that. You must be good for him I think.”

“I presume his remoteness when he came home must have put pressure on the relationship, on the marriage?”

“I cannot say Jack was blameless but so many young soldiers found it hard to adjust. The more he repressed what he had been through the more difficult their relationship became; the marriage should probably have ended years before it did. Had it not been Rosie he was coming home to, but someone more sympathetic, or who had had some kind of war involvement herself, who knows?”

“So Jack didn’t really try to make things work?”

“He had no idea what to do. He was still young but had lived through more than many mature men would ever experience in a lifetime; the memories of death and killing, the fact that so many of his colleagues couldn’t find work, or were too maimed to work afterwards. He was riddled with guilt. The marriage was another casualty and part of his overwhelming sense of failure – despite the fact that the expectations in the beginning were probably unrealistic and he could never have met them. It did drag on for many years longer than it should have - it was an extended, drawn out misery. Eventually Rosie instigated the separation, she moved out and went to live with her sister and it was some time again before she decided on Sidney Fletcher which set the divorce in motion I think. But Jack wanted it as well. He would never have made the first move though, he couldn’t. It isn’t in his nature.”

“When he was still married, he told me that he and his wife lived separately but that a marriage was still a marriage. It could have stayed like that then, if Rosie hadn’t moved on.”

“Yes, it may well have done. We need to be thankful to Rosie for that. He was probably an encumbrance to her.”

“He does seem to be a man burdened. I find it hard to get beyond the surface.”

“He is isolated from so much. I think he feels stigmatised by life - being procured an eminently eligible wife then losing her, by coming back from the war in one piece, he may have been protected or even promoted at work by Sanderson, survived the strike, better educated than his colleagues. He feels guilty for his existence, out of place in time and space. I don’t think he has many friends, apart from us and some people from the horticultural society. I don’t think any of his work colleagues are any more than that and of course he has lost the circle of those he knew through Rosie. I wish he were happy. I know he isn’t. I wish I could fix that but I can’t.”

At that point the children came running onto the veranda with their spoils to show their mother, followed by Alec and Jack.

“Good morning,” said Phryne to them all.

Jack came over, put an arm on her shoulder, and kissed her, “Good morning,” watched closely by Pam who sidled over to her uncle and asked,  
“Why did you kiss Miss Fisher?”

Cath, overhearing, took her daughter by the hand and led her aside, Phryne straining to hear the conversation. Pam’s mother crouched down to her level and held her gently by the arms,“You mustn’t ask that kind of question, it isn’t polite. It is a very private thing,” Pam’s mouth turned downward at the rebuke. “When people are very close, like family, they kiss one another. But only people who like one another very much. That is why. Uncle Jack and Miss Fisher like each other. But you must only ask those questions to me and in private. All right?” the sad faced nodded. “Now will you help me make the pancakes?”

Jack sat beside her and poured himself some tea from the pot.

“So a success?” she asked.

“Yes, all eggs found, distributed evenly, and not too many eaten yet. I think that constitutes a success doesn’t it? I’m going riding with them after breakfast, what do you want to do? Do you want to go on a ferry ride when I get back and maybe a picnic in the botanical gardens?”

“Yes, that sounds lovely. I’ll unpack when you’re out.”

“But you won’t unpack my things. I do want to have some clothes left at the end of next week.”

“We have the gifts to distribute too.”

“Well the children’s can wait until tomorrow. They have enough today. And I’ll need something to entertain them when you’re all at the clinic. Thank you for offering to help. That was good of you.”

“I want to.”

“What have you and Cath been talking about?”

“Not a lot,” which Phryne thought was probably true enough given the narrow range of topics covered.

After breakfast, which was a very pleasant affair of pancakes on the veranda, Jack headed off with the children and Phryne went upstairs to get dressed and unpack. Cath offered her the services of their housekeeper, Mrs Jenkinson, who would be there the next day should she need things washed or ironed.

The trip on the ferry and to the botanical gardens created much discussion about who was going and who wasn’t until Cath intervened.

“Uncle Jack and Miss Fisher will go on their own. Alec, why don’t you take them and the children to the wharf in the runabout? That way everyone gets a ride on the water, and Phryne and Jack can have a few hours to themselves. I will happily stay behind.” So it was decided.

They left from the bottom of the garden and were duly deposited at the nearby wharf, with Pam whispering as they parted, “But next time I’m coming with you.” Jack and Phryne found themselves on a fairly crowded ferry with many other Sydneysiders taking advantage of the holiday and weather to be on the water. Jack pointed out the sites as they headed east, including the construction that was underway of the bridge that was to span the harbour from north to south, visible on the southern side from the balcony of Cath and Alec’s home. 

From Circular Quay they wandered arm in arm along to the gardens that stretched ahead of them around the curve of the harbour, “I suppose you’re going to show off your botanical knowledge. That’s why you brought me here.”

“No, that wasn’t what I had in mind.” 

“Well then?”

“I wanted to bring you to one of the loveliest spots in Sydney – beautiful gardens and yes many and varied botanical species, expansive views of the harbour. Better?” 

“Well at least tell me about where we are!”

“This path leads along to Woolloomooloo Bay, where horticulturists have re-created a patch of Sydney’s bushland, the way Mrs Macquarie, the wife of the then Governor Macquarie may have seen it early last century on her way to her ‘Chair’ at the point. Shall we walk there too? There are more formal garden displays up that way,” he pointed to the south, “manicured lawns and large scale shrub plantings. There’s a herb garden, a palm grove, tree plantings from around the world. And all peaceful and quiet.” 

“Well I think you are very clever to choose this place.”

“For a lowly policeman.”

“No, just clever, that is all,” she paused, “Are you happy Jack?”

“At this very moment or more generally?”

“Can you give me both answers?” 

“At this moment, very, more generally I can’t really say, some of the time I suppose. Now what about you? This moment and generally?”

“Well, like you,” she paused, “at this moment I am very happy and I would say that I am generally happy too. But my sister will always be a shadow that prevents my being truly happy I think; her loss will always be there, I can’t hide it, I can’t bury it away where it can’t be reached,” she looked at him cautiously.

Jack nodded, and Phryne continued, “It’s the same with you isn’t it? The war will always be there?”

“Yes, it will. The war and other things.”

“But not now. We are both very happy now aren’t we?”

“Yes we are Phryne Fisher.” He pulled her to him a little more closely as they walked.


	7. Scattered Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr alert: Pam's creativity continues

Phryne and Jack were both up early the next morning to be part of the family’s busy day, Jack to take control of entertaining his niece and nephew, Phryne to be part of the clinic’s staff. Jack gave the children the gifts they had brought with them, a kit for a model plane for Nev, a set of crayons and parchment for Pam. He found his nephew and niece easy to occupy, he and Nev setting about making the plane from the kit, helping Pam with ideas for drawings and venturing out on the bicycles, taking with them their lunchtime sandwiches. Their uncle was, as always, a great favourite with both of them. 

Phryne looked decidedly sober in the plainest clothes she could find in her luggage and a lab coat from Cath. She went with her into the basement where a queue of patients was already waiting outside. There was paper work to be completed, testing and cleaning of eyes to be done, sterilising of implements, and prepping of patients for their appointments with the doctor and nurse. The men were largely wharfies and colliery workers and anyone too covered in coal dust was shepherded into a cubicle for a shower. They were clearly familiar with the Dr and Mrs O’Connell but were delighted with the new addition to the workforce, with a number of the men ensuring they needed extra attention.

“C’mon darling look into these eyes…”  
“You’ll need to give me a hand with this …”  
“Could you help me read this… write me details for me…”

Phryne was as usual charming, smiling, delightful and was a bonus to the day’s efficient operation.

Local women also attended the clinic, many of whom had a reputation of performing a less acceptable role in the community, but were equally needy. Phryne noted to Cath that one on the list of patients hadn’t attended for her appointment.

“Hmm,” wondered Cath, “Nell Baker, she is one of our regulars.” She went over to a small group of women and enquired after Nell but they all shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads.

Phryne found the work busy, enjoyable and rewarding and barely noticed the time passing. Mrs Jenkinson appeared at regular intervals with cups of tea and sandwiches, otherwise she had little idea of the time.

As the list of patients was exhausted and cleaning up began, one of the young women from earlier in the afternoon returned and sidled quietly up to Cath.

“What is it Kitty? Is everything all right?”

“It’s Nell miss, we haven’t seen her for a few days. There is some of us a bit worried.”

“Has this happened before? Has she gone off, or looked for work elsewhere?”  


“Well yes, she has, but she always lets one of us know; and she wouldn’t be leaving Fanny’s in a hurry,” Kitty sniffed constantly, her running nose and dilated pupils signs of the cocaine she used.

“Why not?” asked Cath. Phryne wondered over and Kitty looked as if she were about to leave immediately. “It’s all right, Miss Fisher is a friend and confidante, you needn’t be worried Kitty. Go on.”

“Well, Fanny is quite strict about loyalty. She won’t allow the girls to go off elsewhere. If you choose to have a few nights off, you’re better off not trying to come back. But she looks after us, business is good. Now that we aren’t allowed on the street anymore, we know where we are better off.”

“And when did you last see Nell? Can you remember exactly?”

“Well none of us can remember exactly but we think it’s been three or four days. We all went out together last week and no-one remembers seeing her after that for sure.”

“Does she have a boyfriend?” Phryne joined in. 

Kitty shook her head, “Not a boyfriend. She always had lots of blokes, cos everyone liked her. But there was no-one special. She didn’t have any other place to live.”

“What about family? I can look up her records for her next of kin,” suggested Cath, going over to their files, “Let’s see, there might be someone, … oh, it’s you Kitty. So she has no family?”

“Most of us don’t miss. Why would be doing what we do if we had a family to look after us?”

“And did she work every night?” asked Phryne, “Would you have expected her to be working the last few nights?”

“Probably would have worked every night, yes, especially with the holidays busier than ever.”

“But what about Fanny? Hasn’t anyone asked her? She would know if any one of her girls was missing surely,” suggested Cath.

Kitty shook her head, “No, no-one will ask her. You don’t. For all we know Fanny gave her notice and had enough of her.”

“But what about her belongings? Are her things still at work?” asked Phryne.

“That’s just it, seems as everything is there, although no-one knows for sure.”

“What about personal items, her purse for example?”

“Well there’s handbags there, she had a few of ‘em, she liked her fashion. So we don’t think she cleared out, otherwise she would’ve taken ‘em with her.”

“But she could be visiting friends or run off with someone?” persisted Cath.

Kitty nodded, “You never know with Nell, but not usually this long and she’d tell me I know she would. We are friends.”

“I don’t suppose anyone has informed the police?” queried Phryne.

Kitty laughed, “You’re joking aren’t you miss?”

“Well if there is anything I can do, let me know. Phryne Fisher, private detective, when I’m not receptionist in this clinic!” she held out her hand and Kitty shook it. “I’m afraid I don’t know Sydney at all, but if I can help, I’m staying here with Dr and Mrs O’Connell for a couple of weeks.”

“Thank you miss. Bye Mrs O.”

“Kitty,” Cath called after her, “Be sure to let us know if you hear anything. One way or the other.”

“Yes miss, very good miss.”

“So you’re the local social worker too sometimes?” asked Phryne.

“Yes I suppose we are in a way. You would have seen today, I think some come just for the tea and sympathy with nothing more than a cut or an abrasion.”

They finished sterilising, washing and cleaning, and packing up with the help of Mrs Jenkinson, and with Alec went upstairs and into the house. Phryne suddenly felt exhausted. Jack was sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by paints and crayons, paper and balsa wood, carefully putting the finishing touches to a pattern on the wing of the plane, being attentively supervised by Nev. 

“Hello, what a lot of work you’ve been doing,” Phryne went over to them and sat at the table with them, and gave Jack a kiss. Pam immediately looked knowingly at her mother, as if to confirm their earlier conversation.

“Look Miss Fisher!” Pam held up a drawing which was a remarkably good portrait of a woman’s face, with short dark hair, ruby red lips and a necklace that was a mass of sparkles.

“It’s lovely!” said Phryne, “Is that me?”

“Yes and it’s for you,” lisped Pam.

“Thank you very much. Can I put it in my room?” Pam nodded enthusiastically.

“Pack up now children,” said Cath, ever watchful. “Uncle Jack’s shift is well and truly over. Nev that plane is wonderful, well done. Tomorrow I want to see it fly. Pam, show me your drawings… Gorgeous. I love this one….You can go with Mrs Jenkinson now and have a bath both of you, come on quickly now so you’ll be ready for dinner. But grown-ups need some peace and quiet before then,” she paused as they began the tasks she had set them, “Thank you Jack. You are a treasure. And so are you Phryne, it would have been a much longer day without you. Do you two want to get changed then come down for a drink before dinner?”

Jack and Phryne wandered up to their room.

“How was it?” asked Jack.

“It was actually really enjoyable. I’ll have a shower and freshen up. What about you? You seem to have those children worshipping at your feet.”

He smiled, “They are very well brought up. Cath doesn’t let much slip by her, so they are pretty easy.”

“You didn’t ever want children yourselves?”

He seemed to stiffen slightly, then responded simply, “You know it didn’t happen. Just as well.”

Phryne refrained from questioning further.


	8. Dark Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr alert: Jack rolls his eyes; Jack puts his hands in his pockets

The next few days were holidays indeed. They saw little of Alec apart from dinner time which was always pleasant conversation; days were spent in a variety of activities that included all of them, some of them or just Phryne and Jack: picnics, ferry rides around the harbour, shopping trips to the city’s fashion houses for the girls, bike rides for boys, flying of the balsa wood plane, rides in Phryne’s car to visit some others of Sydney’s sites, cooking meals, writing postcards.

Following the girls’ shopping trips to the city a series of boxes arrived from Sydney’s fashion houses, from David Jones, Freebody and Debenhams, Rosetta of Clifton… Jack wondered how they would fit them into the car for the return trip.

Cath noticed and was moved by what she saw as a blossoming relationship for her brother. From her perspective they liked each other, they got on well, they seemed content with each other and gave the impression of being evenly matched - she approved that neither appeared to dominate the other. She liked Phryne very much and she could imagine their having a comfortable friendship. She hoped desperately that it would last and that Jack would be happy, and that Phryne’s liveliness and extrovert behaviour would rub off a little on her brother.

For Phryne and Jack, each was experiencing a bond that was new. Jack had had nothing that could be considered a relationship since he had separated from Rosie and Phryne’s string of lovers could not reasonably be called anything beyond temporary liaisons. They were now, effectively, living together, under one roof by day and night. Familiarity was certainly not breeding contempt. Night time was a pleasure for both. Jack’s reserved exterior belied the passion that lay beneath - he was a lover who was warm, considerate, with a depth of intimacy and delight for his partner; Phryne loved the way he cradled her face in his hand when he kissed her, the way he caressed her with his fingers, his lips, his tongue, the way he responded to her, the way he remembered what gave her pleasure. She was inventive, creative, and adventurous; she loved to tease and entice him. She challenged his practices and he found her exciting.

It was very late one rather cool windy night, when both were asleep, that they were suddenly roused by noise downstairs. There was pounding on the front door and a woman’s voice calling out to Miss O’Connell and Miss Fisher, and the sounds of Cath and Alec’s voices in the hallway.

“What do you suppose is the matter?” asked Phryne.

Jack roused himself, pulled on pyjamas and dragged on his dressing gown, “I’d better go and see.”

“I’ll come too, I think she called my name” said Phryne. Jack knew better than to suggest otherwise, and vaguely wondered how on earth Phryne had got herself involved in this late night emergency.

They collected in the foyer where Alec had opened the door to the young woman Phryne had met at the clinic earlier in the week.

“Come in Kitty. Whatever is the matter?” said Cath. Outside a cold wind blew leaves around the porch, scratching at the steps.

“It’s Nell Miss, they’ve found her,” she gasped for breath.

“Well that’s a relief isn’t it? Is she all right?” 

“No, Miss, they’ve fished her out of the water down at the dock. Can you please come? We don’t know what to do.”

“Who’s Nell?” asked Jack.

“One of local girls, whose been missing a week or so,” said Phryne quickly.

“And you know this how exactly?” 

“Clinic.”

“Right.”

Mrs Jenkinson appeared in a nightie and dressing gown, woken by the commotion, her hair in a long plait over one shoulder.

“We shall need to go out Mrs Jenkinson. There’s been an accident. Could you please get Kitty here some hot chocolate while we get dressed,” commanded Cath. “Go through to the kitchen Kitty, and wait for us there. Phryne, Jack shall you come with us?”

Half an hour later the four of them and Kitty squeezed into Alec’s car and drove down to the docks. The area was dark and cold, the wind blowing in gusts that whipped up debris and dust into their faces. Alec stepped forward with Jack, each with a torch until, after Kitty’s directions they came upon a group of people standing around a bundle on the ground.  
“Move over,” Kitty called, “The doctor’s ‘ere.”

The huddle shuffled sideways with one muttering, “Not much use for a doc now.”

Cath gasped at the corpse despite her years of nursing experience, as Alec, Jack and Phryne closed in on the body, shining torches to pore over it. It was a ghastly sight, bloated and distorted, the grey flesh torn and eaten away, hair matted and swathed with the sea’s waste, and mere remnants of clothes.

“Look at this,” Alec pointed to the neck, a black gash beneath a cover of fabric, hair and debris.

“Razor?” Phryne took a pen from her bag and folded back the skin.

“Could well be with that depth and evenness.”

“So that’s cause of death?”

“Undoubtedly. Blood pooling like that is unlikely to be post mortem.”

“Is that bruising or the effects of the harbour?” Jack pointed to darker patches on the legs, thighs and temples. “Could be post mortem?”

“Would need forensics to see. And that’s doubtful in the circumstances. We’ll need to get her to the morgue and inform the police.”

“Why no forensics? Surely she is entitled to same investigation as everyone else.” Phryne was incensed.

“Indeed she is but it is unlikely it will happen.” Alec motioned to some of the onlookers, “Is there anything around that we could use to cover the body?”

A general muttering and movement around the area produced a tarpaulin.

“We’ll go home and inform police and arrange for transport to the morgue. Come on, nothing much more we can do here.”

Kitty motioned to Phryne, “You’ll help Miss won’t you? We’ll all pool together and make sure we can pay you.”

“Of course I’ll help if I can, but I’ll need your assistance too. And as for payment, don’t be ridiculous,” then looking over to her companions she stood her ground, “I’ll stay and wait for the police.” 

Had the night not been so black his sister and brother-in-law would have noticed Jack raise his eyes heavenward, letting out a long breath, “I’ll stay too.”

“How will you get back home?” Cath ever concerned.

“We’ll walk or arrange something. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

Phryne and Jack stood side by side in the blackness, the cluster of onlookers dissipating, except for Kitty. Jack’s hands were deep in his pockets, “I don’t believe this. How could it possibly be that we come to Sydney for a holiday and this happens? Phryne you know I can’t get involved in this don’t you?”

“Well it’s a bit late for that isn’t it? Kitty…?” she called her over.

“What can you tell us? Anything at all about Nell’s associates? What was she involved in, who was she involved with that might have got her into trouble?”

“Nothing Miss. She wasn’t involved with any of ‘em. She kept away from ‘em, we all did, we had to.”

“Who did you keep away from?” Jack couldn’t help asking. “The ones who use razors as their weapons of choice?” Kitty nodded.

“Did they come to Fanny’s? Are they clients?”

“Some. But they mostly went to Tilly’s not our place. Some come to us but. But we don’t get involved. Ain’t worth it.”

“And who supplies you with cocaine?”

“We get it from Fanny. But you can’t say nothing will you? She gets it for us. She gives it to us as part of wages.”

Jack lifted the tarpaulin to see if there was anything else he needed to consider. It was as if, having said he couldn’t be involved, he felt obliged. He looked at the body, not with annoyance, horror or distaste but with some kind of dignified consideration.

“What about her clothes Kitty, if you can bear to look, when would she wear these, at work or going out somewhere, can you tell?” Phryne asked quietly.

Kitty peered at the body again, holding her sleeve across her nose and mouth, “Not work, could be going out I suppose.”

“But she had no boyfriend you said?” Kitty shook her head.

“Regular client? Someone special?” suggested Jack. 

A police car drew up nearby and two officers got out. In the light of the torches, their faces became clearer.

“I have to go. I can’t be around here with the police. I’m sorry miss. Goodbye sir.”

As the two approached Phryne took the lead, but they quickly dismissed her.

“Thank you Miss, Sir; you are related to Dr O’Connell? He said you would wait, but we will take things from here now unless you have witnessed anything we need to know.”

“I have been asked by a client to assist, so I would like to remain while you have a look if I may,” Phryne gave them her sweetest smile and showed her card.

“I am afraid we don’t use the services of private detectives,” he looked at the card, “… Miss Fisher. We usually find we can manage without.” He nonetheless pocketed the card.

“It appears to be razor used to cut her throat and you have razor gangs that operate in this area I believe.”

“Yes well you don’t need to have been to private detective school to know that. Now if you will excuse us.”

Jack cringed, waiting further away from the scene, observing silently. The police moved the other onlookers on, secured the scene, shone their torches, took photographs, and waited for the van to take the body to the morgue.

Phryne wandered over to Jack, “I think we may as well go. They are not keen to have someone helpful, willing…” she paused, 

“Interfering?” Jack suggested.

She squeezed his arm, “How far is the walk? I don’t suppose you could pull rank and ask for a ride in the police car, or shall I try more of my charm?”

“No, and no please don’t! Now take my arm, a brisk walk will do us both good.”


	9. Stormy weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr alert: Jack leans against something; he also has a jawline; Phryne eats his toast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for (1)

The disrupted night meant a sleep-in for both Phryne and Jack the next day particularly given the long walk home. The day continued cool from the night before, with a cloudy sky and winds whipping the harbour into a frenzy of peaks and troughs and plunging the water into a dark green grey. It was mid-morning before Jack got up and sometime later for Phryne. 

She was keen to know about the relationship between the brothels in the area, local razor gangs, and illicit cocaine suppliers. Cath was in the kitchen with Jack when she went downstairs. He was eating toast, leaning against a kitchen bench, chatting and laughing with her.

“Hello!” smiled Phryne.

“Breakfast?”

“Yes please,” she took the other half of Jack’s piece. “Any more news about last night?”

“Nothing,” said Cath, “But I’m not sure we are likely to hear much before next clinic, except local gossip.”

“What are these local razor gangs then?”

“They don’t operate very close to here if that’s what you’re worried about. They are based on the other side of the city from here, King’s Cross, Darlinghurst and Woolloomooloo.”

“And is their business drug-related?”

“It is usually isn’t it, that and bootleg alcohol. I presume there are the same restrictions on alcohol sales here after six pm. When was cocaine banned from legal sale here?” contributed Jack.

“A couple of years ago now but most of our patients who attend the clinic were addicted prior to then.”

“So where do they get it now?”

“In the case of Kitty and her co-workers they get it as part of their wages. It wouldn’t surprise me if Fanny wasn’t tied up in a minor way as with other leading Madams in Sydney. There are such significant numbers of addicts among the brothel workers, the wharfies and miners, that illegal drug distribution has become a market for the criminal gangs.”

“So you think Nell could have been caught up in this?”

“I really have no idea. I wouldn’t have thought so. It was obvious she was a user, but so are most of the girls. As to her connections with the gangs, I couldn’t say. I would have thought we were a bit outside the area, but who knows. Poor thing. What a way to go.”

“How could we find out about these gangs?”

“Phryne, leave it,” pleaded Jack.

“I said I would help Kitty.”

“You can’t get mixed up in these kinds of criminal gangs. It would put you in danger and there is no-one to protect you.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Isn’t that what I am trying to do? I can’t protect you as a policeman, not here.”

“Why ever not?”

“I have no jurisdiction here.”

“But if we could find out who the major players are in the gangs and see if there is a connection to the brothel, to Fanny’s? Jack you must be able to do something.”

“There is no relationship between States’ forces, let alone particular investigation squads.”

“There must be contacts you can make! You could organise searches of criminal records.”

“Of course I can’t! It isn’t possible. It would be seen as interference not only on another patch, but another State.”

Catherine had at this point moved away from them into the parlour to avoid being part of what she saw as a personal argument between the two, not requiring her presence.

“But what about Russell Street? You have contacts there now to access information. Surely with your reputation you could approach them? You must see your responsibility to help with this.”

“No Phryne. It wouldn’t be worth my reputation, whatever that is anyway. We don’t share records between forces – I’m not saying we shouldn’t, but we don’t, so I couldn’t attempt it. It isn’t my responsibility professionally to interfere.”

“Well if you’re not at all willing to help, what about unofficially then? We could ask Hugh to get us some information.”

“What on earth are you suggesting? That I ask Collins to behave in a way that is not only inappropriate and unprofessional but would be gross misconduct and potentially illegal? That I throw integrity to the wind? It would be the end of his career and mine. There is no question of this, surely you can see that?”

“I can see that you don’t care when it’s not your responsibility, that you are being overly cautious, you’re making excuses, and erring on the ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous now am I?” His jaw was tight, his brow furrowed, “Excuse me, I think I need to go on a long ride. I shall see you later.” He turned and walked away.

On the sound of the word ride, Nev’s voice appeared from the parlour, “Uncle Jack, can I come?”

“No, you can’t,” his uncle responded over his shoulder, “Not this time Nev.”

Phryne stood motionless, contemplating what her next move was to be. Had she been a cat she would have flicked her tail. Cath came back to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove and got two cups and saucers out of the cupboard. She looked over to Phryne, “Tea?” 

Phryne nodded.

Once out on the balcony Phryne said flatly, “I suppose you’re going to tell me I was wrong to say those things and speak that way to Jack.”

“No, I wasn’t going to say that,” said Cath simply. “That is something for the two of you to resolve.”

“But you think I was?”

“It isn’t for me to judge, but I am sorry you have argued, and that Jack has left angry and you are upset. I wouldn’t want to see things left that way for either of you.”

“Do you find it hard to admit it when you are wrong?”

“I think everyone does who has a strong mind of their own. It’s being willing to concede it, then both parties being prepared to talk about it, then forgive and forget, those are the things that are tough I think. Strong relationships just get stronger if you can determine things comfortably for both of you. It is never really resolved if one party feels either triumphant or vindicated and the other feels demoralised or aggrieved.”

“I was wrong I know. I find it very difficult to back down, let alone admit it when I am.”

“Couldn’t you tell him that?”

“I’ll have to, I think.”

“I know he cares for you; he wouldn’t have been angry if he didn’t, so he’ll listen, eventually. And you must care for him, otherwise you wouldn’t be feeling the way you are now.”

“I am not very used to being in any kind of relationship and Jack and I have been colleagues, then friends for such a long time, we haven’t really talked about our feelings. And I think men find it difficult anyway and Jack particularly.”

“Agreed! But good for both of you if you can find a way.”

“You’re speaking from experience?”

“Of course! Not I was very good at providing advice when Jack was married.”

Phryne sat quietly for a while and Cath observed her troubled look, “What is it?”

“So Rosie moving out of the marital home, then moving on to another relationship, that was a release for him?”

“Her finding a new relationship with Fletcher was fortuitous in my opinion, although there was something odd about it, she having known him most of her life. It’s a pity that the engagement was broken off. Of course it had to be when he was revealed as the duplicitous criminal he was, I would much rather her happily settled elsewhere and completely out of Jack’s life – not that I would have wished her a felon as a husband.”

“Do you think she is still around? I have met her a couple of times, most recently during the course of the investigation into Fletcher’s involvement with the abduction of the girls.”

“That dreadful business threw her back into Jack’s arms but not seriously, on his part anyway. She has always kept in touch with us, regularly but very infrequently - Christmas cards, birthday cards for the children; we’ll meet for coffee if she is in Sydney, and that has been occasionally. She is not completely out of his life but I know no details except that the thread has not been cut through, although it is very frayed.”

“That thread of life woven by the fates seems to be a theme in my life at the moment! I think I need that third fate, the one that cuts the thread to do something about that. So she still cares for Jack do you think?”

“I don’t know what it is. I sincerely hope not for Jack’s sake, and can I say for yours too? Perhaps she now realises what she had, particularly compared with that frightful Sidney Fletcher, a complete spiv. Her involvement with him, for me, simply confirmed what she really is, she wanted his money and his status, someone who could keep her in the style to which she wished to become accustomed, and of course the link with her father.”

“So Sanderson set up this match as well?”

“No idea, just a suspicion on my part. Jack knew nothing of it I believe and wasn’t even acquainted with Fletcher when they were married, so I don’t know what contact Rosie had with him during her childhood and youth or even why he was Sanderson’s godson – I’m ignorant of the connections. But I would hate to think she would try to re-establish things with Jack. There would be some serious sisterly advice if I were to hear of it. I don’t want to embarrass you Phryne speaking this way but I am sure you find talking to Jack about it like pulling teeth.”

“Indeed, he won’t be drawn. Did he ever love her?”

“That I can’t say for sure – perhaps in the early days. He has such a strong sense of loyalty, and duty - that’s why he is such a good policeman - I just never knew whether it was that or whether he did really love her. What I do know is that he was so hurt by the whole thing, so I cannot imagine his wanting to get involved again. I hope he wouldn’t be swayed.” She paused, “I couldn’t bear to see him hurt again. I was so pleased when he wrote to me about you, you must be very special to him, well I know you are. And I have seen a changed Jack these past few days. He really seems so much happier than I have seen him in such a long time. Perhaps he is good for you too?”

“I don’t think I can be all that he wants me to be.”

“What has he asked of you?”

“Nothing. In fact he has said he would never ask me to change what I am.”

“Then I don’t think you’re in a position to judge what he wants you to be.”

“No, I suppose I’m not. We should talk about it but we keep avoiding it, sidestepping what we both want to know.” 

“Well perhaps here, away from home, work, friends, responsibilities, might be the perfect place and time? You never know, you might be closer to consensus than you think. He needs you and you like him don’t you? I can tell. Otherwise this conversation would not have gone in the direction it did.”

“Yes, I do like him. I like him very much.”

After their tea, Cath went inside and brought Phryne some of her latest purchases of books and magazines to read, then busied herself with the children. Phryne sat thinking about what had occurred, how their argument had escalated so quickly, how much she regretted it, how much she liked him, how much Cath’s words had meant, how much she wanted him to return from a cathartic ride as the Jack she knew. She looked out onto the water, dark and choppy with whitecaps of foam. Boats bobbed idiotically about buffeted by waves and the wind. She imagined it would be a tough cycle in this weather. She looked through magazines then started reading one of the books, while she waited, and rehearsed what she would say to him.

Several hours later she heard the crunch of wheels on gravel, so went downstairs and outside to meet him. He had his back partially to her as he put the bike away. She could see him bent over with fatigue, his hands on his knees, chest heaving, panting.

He looked over to her and looked away again.

“Jack, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken that way.”

“Right, fine,” he moved towards her where she was standing in the doorway. His face streamed with sweat, his hair tousled from wind and salt air, “Let me pass please, I need to go and have a shower.” Phryne sensed a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at being so consciously snubbed, and wandered back inside after him.

He headed straight upstairs to their bathroom and turned the water on hard and hot, his thoughts still racing despite the energetic ride to clear his mind:

The first signs of anything at all that required her to empathise with his position, she would not understand… It had to be all her way, just as it was with Rosie. He had no idea where he now stood. She had appreciation neither of his situation nor his point of view. She simply didn’t want to hear it. She just wanted her approach, to resolve things to suit her… He did not, could not, would not ever want to be in a position where he had always to consider her whims. These would hang constantly over his head. He failed to understand what she wanted of him. Was it worth it? …She has used he him and he hadn’t see it.

Phryne went upstairs to their bedroom and waited for him to come out of the bathroom, knowing she had to make another attempt to speak to him. He emerged towelling dry his hair, naked. He saw her sitting beside the window, stopped short and immediately wrapped the towel around his waist.

“Don’t worry, I have seen it before.”

“Why does everything with you have to deflect the serious, and why is it always about you?” He sounded cold.

“I tried to say I was sorry downstairs. I said I was wrong. What more do you want me to say, what more can I say?”

He sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her, “Because I don’t immediately bend to your will, I am being uncaring, uncharitable, even abnegating my social responsibility. You show no knowledge, no understanding, no concern for the implications of what you asked me to do. None.”

“Jack stop. I said I was sorry. I agree I said the wrong things. I know it now. Please don’t do this. I am extending an olive branch and it isn’t something I can do easily. You are being unfair.“

“I am being unfair? What do you want from me? What am I to you? Tell me.”

“I can’t talk to you about these things, not when you’re so angry and upset.”

“When can you then? During the banter, during the teasing? When we are in bed together?”

“Please don’t talk this way. I can tell you that I don’t want this to come between us.”

“Why not? So that the official avenue into your investigations when it suits you will no longer be there? The play thing? The distraction? The hobby to toss aside when you’re tired of it, when I don’t do your bidding?”

Phryne went over to where he was on the bed and sat down next to him, tentatively.  
“None of those things …surely you know that…,” she spoke gently and quietly, “You have turned my whole world upside down. I don’t know what exactly I want. I can’t say, and that’s because you’ve confused what I thought I needed, or didn’t need. But I do know that I want you, very much and cannot bear to think of myself without you.”

Eventually Jack spoke, “I will never ask you to be what you’re not. But you can’t expect that of me either. You are free of course to live your life according to your own scruples, but you cannot assume to define mine or believe that the relationship we have had allows you to dictate to me. It can’t be one way. Being a policeman is what I am, it is me. You know that but you didn’t care if that were compromised.”

“A talented policeman, thorough, detailed, meticulous, respected by your men and superiors; but you are so much more than that: you are also cultured and clever, a caring brother, an adored uncle, a wonderful lover and a loyal friend.” She put her hand on his, afraid that he would withdraw it, but he didn’t. He tightened his fingers around hers, and she brought his hand to her lips, a gesture she had learned from him. She continued, “I am so sorry. I would never want to tell you what to do. I know that’s the way it sounded downstairs and I regret it. I didn’t think through your situation here in Sydney. You have always supported me through our investigations together, and I assumed, I presumed without thinking, and I shouldn’t have. I do appreciate now your position. But I thought so far we have been equals haven’t we?”

“I was starting to feel that way, until this afternoon.”

“Can we talk about where we are? You and I? We have been through so much together. We know so much about each other, the deep dark things too, we have been there for each other through difficult times. That counts for a lot, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, I know it does.” 

“… are we that far apart?”

Jack took a deep breath, “I won’t share you. I could not bear it, I would walk away. That is all I ask.”

“I don’t want anyone else. Just you. And I don’t want to share you either. Except with Cath, even though I am a little jealous of her.”

“Why?”

“I have never seen you so relaxed, so comfortable, so happy, so at ease with anyone. I wish it could be that way with us.”

“Because with Cath I know that no matter what I do, she will always be the same, she will always be there for me, she’s a rock, she never changes…”

“I can’t be that…

He moved from the edge of the bed and sat up against the bedhead and cushions. She thought initially that he was moving away from her, but he plumped up the pillows next to him to indicate that he wanted her to sit next to him.

“I wouldn’t want you to be. You are a kaleidoscope. And I have always rather liked kaleidoscopes, that miracle of coloured glass constantly transforming into endless amazing patterns.” She settled into that spot between his neck and chest, and he draped an arm around her.

“It’s now or never,” thought Phryne. “And Rosie? I don’t want to share you with her. And she seems to be around still … sometimes.”

“Perhaps more in your mind than mine. I’ve told you it’s over with her and it is. Since we’re not married I have no obligation to her. And anyway it ended such a long time ago, even before we were separated. I have no feelings for her except some sympathy for what I put her through for years - I wasn’t any kind of husband. So perhaps some support if she needs a friend but nothing that can impact on you and me.” He paused deliberately, “Please don’t ask me about her, about our relationship. It was too painfully bad to want to speak of it, and I don’t think I could put it into words. And nothing like what we have, you and I. It is so completely different with you, there is no comparison.”

“With the breaking of her engagement, the indictment of Sidney Fletcher, the investigation into her father, you gave her your moral support. I have seen the way she looks at you, even before Fletcher’s indictment, let alone after all those awful events, she seemed to need you and to want you. I thought those circumstances may have created or renewed opportunities for the two of you. And you seemed to care for her too.” 

“I have no doubt our paths will continue to cross from time to time but that doesn’t mean I would consider re-establishing a relationship. There was hardly a relationship to re-establish in the first place and I am sure she has as little motivation as I have to do such a thing.” He bent down and kissed the top of her head, feeling something akin to a thrill that she may have been jealous of Rosie, and at the same time too much an adherent of the gentleman’s code to even mention Lin or the string of other men of whom he could be jealous. So added, “Does that reassure you?”

“Very well, I shall leave it at that although I am not absolutely convinced that Rosie isn’t “à la recherche du temps perdu” (1). 

“She has no liking for those little madeleines I don’t think.”

“Whereas my time in Paris gave me quite an addiction to them! But if we are talking, I mean really talking, why wouldn’t you stay with me last week? Did you not want to stay at my home because of what it represented to you?”

“No it wasn’t that, I was terrified that you would cast me off, you’d tire of me and I didn’t want that to happen before this trip. Travelling six hundred miles is a long time to be in a car with someone you’d rather not be with. Or you might have reneged and not come with me at all. Of course I wanted to be with you, every night, but I kept thinking I was living on borrowed time.”

“So those nightly phone calls, which I loved by the way, were to court me?”

“Something like that I suppose. Hoping to keep your interest.”

“And if I were to say Jack Robinson that I have no intention of casting you aside, and if you were to do that to me, I would be devastated, that I want to be with you, that I care about you, does that make a difference?”

“Yes, very much.”

“I can’t promise forever, but I can promise for the now, for the present and only you. Is that enough? Like the fate, the Moira, the spinner of life’s spread, the one who sings of the present, who sings of now?”

“Yes, that will do. For now, for the present.”

“So, we are partners then? We can try and see if it works?”

“I haven’t been very good at this type of thing. But as long as you know my record so far, that I’ve been an abject failure.”

“So have I! Does that mean it won’t work for us, in our own way?”

“I’d like to think of myself with you as my partner, even if it were, perhaps, unconventional.”

“And you could cope with that, something a little progressive? Your reserve, your conservatism, your standing?”

“You mean being partners, staying at each other’s homes, but not being married? …Well I didn’t do the conventional path particularly well. And I’m not sure that it’s so socially unacceptable any more. That’s one thing the war gave us I suppose, a post-war society that is more liberal, has a more tolerant attitude to many things considered taboo previously. And as for my standing, I don’t think I have any. But being seen with you, the most glamorous woman in Melbourne, could only enhance it.”

“You are very sweet….Then can we talk about this a little more? We need neither of us give up our homes or our jobs; our families will not cut us off without a shilling; we have a relationship where we remain friends and lovers, and become partners.”

“You have considered Mrs Stanley in this utopia of goodwill and acceptance haven’t you? I have the feeling your aunt sees me as eminently unsuitable.”

“Aunt Pru will have to cope and she may even come to like you if you’re on your best behaviour.”

“I promise I won’t attempt to kiss you in her presence. But go on. You make it all sound simple.”

“You will come to my place and stay sometimes?”

“Yes, I look forward to it.”

“And I could keep an overnight kit at yours?”

“Yes, I would like you to do that. You mean for making an omelette?”

“Now you are not being serious.”

“You will keep interfering in my cases?”

“Of course! You see, we can keep parts of our lives just as they already are and be partners for others. Is there anything else you would want of me?”

“No. What I said before, no sharing, that is all I will ever ask. And apart from my being more relaxed and this afternoon not being a good example, what about you – what would you expect of me?”

“Well despite this afternoon, I am glad to see that there is not always sangfroid that pumps through your veins, that composure of yours, your imperturbability, your self-possession are sometimes rocked. And I do think you kiss awfully well, so I can’t make any demands on that front.”

“We can’t be just about the physical. We’d soon run out of interest in each other.”

“I doubt it.”

“Now it’s you being flippant. You could come to the opera and the theatre with me.”

“And you might dance with me?”

“I could learn.”

“And we can keep teasing,” she gave him one of her arch looks. “But there is something though, maybe you could tell me from time to time how you’re feeling? Would that be such a mountain to climb?”

“You’ll need to coach me on that front. I’m not very good at that either, showing how I feel is possible, communicating it in words is a little more of a challenge.”

“If I can give up sharing, you can give up a little reserve. Now, I think we have a deal, don’t we?”

“Yes, I think we may,” he paused and rather than communicate just exactly how he was feeling: unbalanced, happy, excited, elated, nervous, thrilled, Jack reverted to what he knew and understood, “So tell me, how can I help in this case, realistically?”

Phryne sat up, gave him an enormous smile at this completely unexpected offer and threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek, “Thank you, and I do love you Jack Robinson!” She stopped still; she had said it, it had slipped out spontaneously, without a second thought. She froze, waiting for his reaction.

“Do you indeed?” Jack pulled her back towards him, “Do you really?”

“Yes.” She waited for his response, then coaxing him added, “You could try to tell me what you’re feeling…”

“A bit overwhelmed. I didn’t dare hope. I think you know how much I’m in love with you?”

“I suspected, I thought you might be, I wanted you to be.”

“I love you so much, it hurts sometimes… Like today.”

“Jack…,” she cuddled into him, and entwined her fingers in his, his large hands completely dominating hers, “I don’t ever want to hurt you. You must trust me, like I know I can trust you.” They remained in silence, sitting up against the pillows, hand in hand, neither wanting to break the spell. 

All of a sudden Jack spoke, “I could go undercover.”

“Undercover what? Where? At Fanny’s?”

“Yes, as a punter.”

“In Madam Fanny’s brothel?”

“Yes.”

Phryne looked at him, assuming he was teasing her. But it was implacable Jack, there was no sparkle in the eye, no slight upturn to the corners of his mouth, no raised eyebrow.  
He continued, “I could meet the girls, through Kitty, see who the clients are, see if there is anyone obvious in terms of regularity, particular sexual proclivities, that kind of thing.”

“But as a punter, a client?”

“Yes, how else?”

“What about your reputation? Isn’t that what you were so concerned about losing if you set a foot wrong? If it became known that you as a policeman were involving yourself in another State’s jurisdiction?”

“That’s why I would have to be a genuine punter. Reputation in terms of a single man visiting a brothel? Well hardly a crime these days. And anyway I don’t know anyone in Sydney.”

“Apart from your entire family! Jack you can’t be serious. And we have just committed to each other thirty seconds ago. You’re not a single man! I can’t believe this. What about me? You will come home to me having been with other women?”

“Probably only one at a time,” he persisted, but he couldn’t keep up the charade any longer and smiled broadly and dug her in the ribs. “As a supposed punter. Do you have another suggestion? And don’t even think about going undercover at Fanny’s with me.”

“Unless you were my only client.”

“I already am.”

“But seriously, wouldn’t we be better together? What better cover than our both being there? No-one could suspect girl and client.”

“Apart from every client wanting the gorgeous new girl.”

“But she’ll be busy with a very attentive punter.”

“It’s better I just go on my own, far less obvious and no need to involve the Madam. If we were in it together, we would need it condoned by Fanny. She’d have to be in on it and that would involve briefing her and her being willing to accept our presence. And if she’s involved with cocaine suppliers, and gangs, she isn’t going to consent to our interference.”

“Depends – certainly not if she had a hand in the murder in which case we’ll need to be very careful; but she may see losing Nell as a warning to her from a gang or rival brothel or suppliers; or it could be entirely unrelated to her business dealings, a rogue client for example, and once again it would be in her interest to have us on board. If she were to get something out of it, she probably would welcome it, especially without police interference. Kitty could well know something more if we pressed her.”

“Hmm, not so sure. Still think I’d be better on my own.”

“Please let me come too?”

“Quite like it when you have to beg…”

He still had just the towel around his waist, and she began to caress his chest, then run her fingernails lightly over his skin, circling his nipples and running her fingers through the hairs on his chest. She felt the response within him as he cradled her face and kissed her.

“So I’m forgiven then, for this afternoon?” she whispered.

“Ages ago.”

She continued with her fingers, her nails, then her lips, her teeth, her tongue as she undid the towel from round his waist; he flopped his arms passively beside him and groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Marcel Proust's seminal novel A la Recherche du Temps Perdu (In Search of Lost Time or more accurately Remembrance of Things Past) was published in the first 2 decades of the 1900s. It was written in 7 volumes (!) - a good cure for insomnia! - and was seen as one of the most influential novels of the 20th century. Jack and Phryne being very cultured with an affinity for Paris would know of this publication, therefore Jack understands Phryne's reference straight away.  
> In the novel Proust looks at the role of memory where he contrasts designed or voluntary memory, shaped by people's own interpretation of places and events, which therefore must be incomplete, with involuntary memory, without influence, that provides the essence of the past. He uses madeleines (little shell-shaped cakes) to contrast involuntary memory with voluntary memory. The "madeleine episode" is very famous. The protagonist drinks a cup of tea, eats a madeleine and has a metaphysical experience in which he discovers the essence of involuntary memory. (If you google the "madeleine episode", you can read it, it is only one short paragraph).  
> For Jack and Rosie, their memories of the marriage would be different - each would bring different interpretations and remember it differently.   
> That's today's lesson finished!


	10. Shades of Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr alert: Jack leans against a dresser

Cath was relieved to see them both come downstairs hand in hand, “Argument resolved,” she mused to herself.

“Can I help with dinner?” Phryne wandered over to her.

“Yes, love you to. Jack will you get us a drink? Alec should be home soon too,” and once Jack had left the room, queried, “Peace offering extended?”

Phryne smiled and nodded, “A few issues raised actually, and I think we have some agreement.”

“I’m very pleased to hear it.”

“What are you making?”

“A salmon pie. With a potato bake and a garden salad. And I thought we might have a lemon delicious for dessert. So if you want to make a start on the potatoes or the salad?”

“Do you like cooking? I am afraid I have neither interest nor skill. But I am fortunate that I don’t need to do anything about it.”

“I think they go together. I was interested and developed my skills as a result. Our mother, Jack’s and my mother, had little interest; she cooked as a matter of obligation, so when I was virtually old enough to hold a wooden spoon, I started to cook. Mum was far more interested in helping Jack with his homework than getting the evening meal and I was happy to take over.”

Jack returned with drinks and leaned against the dresser, watching them both, his face a picture of calm and enjoyment.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say that look on your face was smug, young Jack. Cheers, to you both!” his sister raised her glass to them.

At dinner that night, Jack and Phryne outlined the plan to Cath and Alec. Alec shook his head, “What you have planned is nothing short of dangerous, let alone potentially unhygienic being in a place like that. There has been a recent unholy alliance between the razor gangs, drug suppliers, bootleg alcohol and two major Madams who operate brothels east of here.”

“How recently?” asked Jack.

“Well it has been a coalition of events really – over the past two years. There was the prohibition of the sale of cocaine under the Dangerous Drugs Act and the introduction of six o’clock closing for public bars around about the same time; then on top of that you had the Pistol Licensing Act which meant that razors have become the weapon of choice for gangs – cheap, so easily concealable, so intimidating, so damaging; add to that the prohibition of street prostitution a few years’ ago. Scene set for an upsurge in organised crime to supply cocaine, alcohol and prostitutes, with gang members kitted out with nothing more than a razor blade.”

“So how was cocaine supplied here prior to the Act, through chemists?”

“Yes, over the counter and very popular with manual labourers and others who used its stimulant effects to harden their physical prowess and work longer hours. They mixed it in drinks most commonly. So the wharfies, the miners, the brothel workers became regular users.”

Cath added, “The prohibiting of its sale was as a result of the finding that it was addictive, rather than its euphoriant and stimulant effects as a recreational drug. It has been banned in America far longer than here.”

“It is in Victoria too now. So presumably,” added Jack, “cocaine is the drug of choice of these cartels given the high is ephemeral so the users need a constant resupply.”

“Exactly, more so than some of the other narcotics.”

“So who are the suppliers then, apart from the gangs?” asked Phryne.

“Well unfortunately, where there is money, there is corruption. The vice is amongst my own fraternity I am sorry to say – corrupt doctors and chemists; but the word is it extends to the police and even members of parliament. Supply is relatively easy from the sailors on ships that come into the docks from Central and South America. You’re playing with fire if you get yourselves involved.”

“And the brothels? Is Fanny’s a significant player in the business?”

“I seriously don’t think so. Location for a start up in Rozelle is away from the horseshoe as they call it – the sweep of suburbs that are home to the gangs. There are two significant brothels run by rival Madams in the east; they control the gangs and the illicit supplies of alcohol and drugs. We see the results of the gang warfare at the hospital all the time, because we are located at the heart of it in Woolloomooloo, glassings and now slashings from razor damage. I just can’t see Fanny Palmer being involved. You would need significant connections to compete with those Madams. It wouldn’t be worth it to her; the others would have her shut down in no time.”

“So not completely dangerous for us to go in then?” persisted Phryne.

“I really don’t think you should. Jack, are you seriously prepared to put your life, your reputation on the line?”

“I’m not prepared to let Phryne go in alone.”

“Well, I suppose we could speak to Fanny,” said Alec. “We know her well enough as we’ve been providing her and her girls and probably half her clients with service over the years. At least that way we could try and ascertain whether she was behind Nell’s disappearance or disturbed by it.”

Cath spoke next, “I am happy to do this on the understanding that if we even suspect that Fanny Palmer has had a role in this murder that neither of you puts yourselves in such danger as going onto her premises. Agreed?”

Jack looked intently at Phryne who shrugged reluctantly, “Agreed.”

“But it’ll have to wait until after clinic on Monday. Cath, you could get her down here during clinic couldn’t you? We don’t want to arouse suspicion. Put Fanny on the list for Monday and get her a message that she’ll need to come in for a check-up. I can ask around at work about the extension of the network of the two brothels near us at the hospital but I doubt and I seriously hope Fanny’s place isn’t involved.”

Dinner progressed among the conspirators with its usual ambiance, but with a heightened sense of excitement for some, and anxiety for others. At the end of the evening Alec reminded Jack, “Now tomorrow morning, you agreed to come with me for a round of golf at my club. Early start? I like to be in the club house well before lunch.”

“I’m looking forward to it. May be my last given what I am about to undertake with risk to reputation, let alone life and limb.”


	11. Morning Mist

The two brothers-in-law enjoyed a mutual respect, one for the younger man who was an important part of his wife’s past and present, the other for the wisdom, experience and seniority he brought to their relationship. 

The day had dawned perfectly with morning mists hanging on the harbour, blue skies and sunshine penetrating the day early. Alec’s golf club, the Royal Sydney was located east of the city in Rose Bay with the harbour as a stunning backdrop to the course. Jack certainly didn’t play as well as his brother-in-law as he had little practice, but he enjoyed hitting the ball, walking the course and the company of Alec’s two colleagues who joined them.  


After they had completed their holes they went back to the clubhouse to one of the bars for a drink, which had already attracted a crowd, despite their early start, of largely local professionals and businessmen, some of whom Jack had met on previous occasions. Talk was of club business, and of stocks and shares, of the coalmine’s future, and of the wage restraint needed at times like these.

One man in particular insinuated himself into their circle, sitting close to Jack, and drew himself to the detective’s attention. Jack did not believe he had met him before and he seemed less at ease with the group; in fact no one seemed to make any move to converse with him beyond polite greetings, and were reticent to engage when he did speak to them. His face was ruddy, blotched, and badly scarred, Jack assumed from his war years, with hooded eyes, his hair thin and lank. He hunched over his drink as if protecting it, and his bony, claw-like hands were clammy when he introduced himself as Herman Keene.  
“Your are Alec O’Connell’s guest I believe?”

“Jack Robinson, how do you do?”

“Is it business that brings you here or are you holidaying in this part of the world?”

“I am fortunate to be here for pleasure, staying with my sister, Alec is my brother-in-law.”

“So you visit regularly?”

“Not often enough, but I always enjoy a round with Alec when I do. We have been very lucky with the weather and have managed an awful lot in our time here. This morning was lovely on the course; I’m not surprised there are so many here.”

“It is much quieter here on a Monday, why don’t you come back and we’ll play nine holes?”  
Jack hadn’t the slightest interest in returning to play with him on the Monday, not only had he taken an instant dislike to him but more importantly he needed to be available for the interview with Fanny, so he mentioned his need to be available to Alec and Cath in the clinic.

“Yes, I know of it. Your sister and brother-in-law have quite a reputation. It is a most honourable service, they are generous indeed. And some of my clients too are very appreciative.” Jack found his manner cloying and obsequious, and wondered how he could extricate himself from the conversation.

But Mr Keene had latched on. He told Jack he was a barrister with his rooms in the city, to which Jack did not respond with his own involvement in an arm of the law, as he thought it unnecessary and didn’t feel the need to provide any further personal information to him, so asked,  
“So your clients are from the colliery? I wouldn’t have thought they would have needed or been able to afford legal defence such as yours.”

“I work mostly with criminal lawyers and represent their clients. That is my expertise, criminal law. Not many are miners of course. Others though. It is lucrative. I do very well.”

“Yes, I imagine.” Jack wondered why he would be so indiscreet as to mention his earnings and thought it singularly inappropriate; then speculated whether he meant his clients were the local prostitutes, or heaven forbid the razor gangs they had spoken of the day before. He endeavoured to change the subject and commented on the greens and bunkers and how the course had played that morning, and the club’s location and facilities. 

Fortunately a colleague of Alec’s to his left interrupted,  
“We are to see each other at the ballet next week I believe Jack and you are here with a companion too? We shall meet her then?”

“Yes, The Honourable Phryne Fisher is here with me. We are looking forward to it very much. Serendipitous timing for us being here in Sydney with the opening. I haven’t seen Giselle, nor Pavlova perform. The reviews of her in Brisbane have been extraordinary.” He was relieved to have his attention turned from the disagreeable barrister until Alec gave him a nod that they needed to be on their way, as he liked to be home for lunch.

“So who is Herman Keene?” he asked Alec.

“Apart from unpleasant? He has established a reputation for defending Sydney’s criminals and using some unorthodox methods in so-doing.”

“What kind?”

“Look I couldn’t say for sure, only what the talk at the club is, his associations with certain in the hierarchy of the police force, his methods for acquiring witnesses, or having the prosecution’s disappear, that kind of thing. He has a close relationship with some of his clients, too close, so I’m told. He doesn’t usually drink with us, he has his cronies, we tend to keep clear of them, so I’m not sure why he joined us this morning. He may have made up a four with someone in our circle. His associates aren’t really those we would want to foster. I’m sorry you were stuck with him.”

“Not at all. I didn’t mention I was a policeman.”

“Wise, although I doubt you’ll see him again. I certainly hope not,” and changing the subject said, “Now I do expect you know what you are getting yourself into with this investigation. You are here without associates, without your connections and you are putting yourself and Phryne at risk.”

“I know all that but I’m afraid it comes with the territory, and I would prefer to be part of it than not.”

“I have told you how much I like her haven’t I? She is good for you Jack. I’ll say no more.”


	12. Clearing Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr alert: Jack puts his hands in his pockets; Jack shakes his head

The rest of the weekend was spent with family with none of the adults prepared to mention the days of investigation and possible intrigue that lay ahead. Saturday evening saw the family dining and amusing each other with games and singing.

It was one of those evenings that both Phryne and Jack would remember for a long time. It was as if it signalled the beginning of something new, a sense of belonging that made them feel both supported and connected.

The children were over-excited at being part of the entertainment which led them to make silly and exaggerated attempts at charades, with the adults then rising to the challenge of equally extravagant wrong guesses to the hoots of delight of Nev and Pam before they all clustered around the piano to sing.

Cath and Jack played and everyone sang ‘Tiptoe through the Tulips’, ‘Tea for Two’  
‘Walk Right In’, until Jack decided on a variation on a theme and sang ‘If you knew Phryne like I know Phryne…’

Sunday was to be an excursion to the bushlands north of Sydney for a walk and to see some indigenous rock engravings.

Two cars were needed and both Nev and Pam insisted on riding in the Hispano-Suiza which they thought represented a more stylish way to travel, thought it would be faster than their parents’ vehicle and much more fun. They were provided right on all counts, as they played games and sang songs all the way. Nev and Pam thought they were in heaven.

They headed towards St Ives with blue skies and breezes complementing the pleasure of the drive, taking the main roads until they reached a turn off to a dirt track where they parked the cars. They then followed a peaceful grassy walk through shady groves of Sydney red gums, bloodwoods and scribbly gums with wattles, boronia and wax flowers peppering the undergrowth; the track to a rock platform lead past a series of little waterfalls and sparkling rock pools down to a creek. A large exposed slab of rock by the creek bore the carvings. 

Alec took charge of the explanation, and pointed to the outlines in the rock:  
“So here we have a man, as you can see a very well-endowed man, in a headdress; over here two kangaroos, one with a spear in its back, and you can see quite clearly the paws and claws; two women together; and over here on this side some very large footprints.”

“So is it known how old these are and what they represent?” asked Phryne.

The children had skipped away and had started peering into rock pools, flinging the cold water at one another.

“Conventional archaeological thinking dates these about 5000 years but could be earlier or much later.” Alec sounded very much the scientist, “I have an archaeologist colleague at Sydney University who brought us here originally and explained all. There are some in this area that are fresher and later, others earlier. The situation is complicated by the fact that we know the engravings were sometimes re-grooved during ceremonies.”

“So what kind of ceremony would these represent? A successful hunt?”

“These ones are unusual because anthropologists don’t really know their purpose as there are some symbols that don’t align with particular ceremonies. Perhaps to commemorate a successful hunt by the man, with the kangaroos and one of them speared, but on the other hand the footprints and distinctive toes are more associated with creation, a creator spirit, or even fertility, particularly with the headdress the man’s wearing and then the… his.. er… rather large endowment ….”

“Jack, he looks just like you!”

“Phryne!”

“Well I waited until the children weren’t in earshot and I’m sure Cath already knows.”

Jack turned away and walked to the edge of the rock platform, his hands in his pockets, blushing but grinning broadly. She joined him and slipped an arm through his; Alec and Cath exchanged knowing looks.

\----------------------------

That evening Jack lay awake, not yet ready for sleep. Phryne lay beside him, her back to him, her breathing steady, her curves outlined under the sheet. He ran his finger down her back, thinking how much he loved her, how much she meant to him, how she had changed his outlook on life and love.

Tonight he had desired her urgently and hungrily. He hadn’t wanted to wait and take his time making love to her. He thought of how he had possessed her mouth, explored it with his lips and tongue, how she had responded, feeling his urgency, holding him, wanting him too. How he loved the feel of her soft breasts in his mouth, the way her nipples hardened with the touch of his tongue, the way he had plunged himself into her, how her hips moved with each thrust, her fingernails down his back, her groans and his in concert. 

This relationship with Phryne, so exquisitely sensuous and sensual, so thrilling, so invigorating, so intense, so exciting. He felt they were unique, he was appreciated, wanted and needed as he did her. He turned and lay on his side nestling into her back and put his arms around her, his arms wrapped around hers, needing her, by some kind of osmosis, to understand what she meant to him.  


And how unimaginably different had it been with Rosie? Something he could never discuss with anyone, never had, would ever, but they lived there, deep in his psyche, a troubling series of judgments; the thoughts made his stomach lurch, he could feel himself wincing in the agony of reflection. He now forced them to the surface as if to exorcise the demons that they were. It was as if this new-found satisfaction he experienced with Phryne allowed the distasteful to be contemplated, albeit with pain. In the beginning his youthful enthusiasm and inexperience had seen a consummated relationship that satisfied him, even if nagging in the back of his mind may have been the thought that she tolerated rather than enjoyed him as part of her obligation to the marriage bed. She had not, he could now concede, shown much pleasure in their relationship and offered little to its development. At the time his naivety left him ignorant of her feelings, let alone attempting to understand them or change them.

And then there was afterwards, after the return. He knew he had been difficult to live with, often morose and taciturn; but she hadn’t wanted to know or appreciate what he had been through. Their physical relationship had deteriorated further, brief loveless encounters, without intimacy, and then to their separate rooms, using the excuse of his nightmares; then nothing at all. An unspoken, unresolved distancing that led her to choose to move out, to her sister. Had they talked about it, Rosie with Daphne? Had she confided how bad it had been? How uncaring and ineffective he had been? Did they mock his performance and giggle about it in the confidence of their own boudoirs? He shuddered at the memory, at the thought of what she might say. Thank goodness she had moved on. He had to appreciate now that she made the decision for both of them, one they both wanted, both needed to be made. This comparison with his previous experience made him feel momentarily ill, he could almost taste the bitterness it evoked.

“Oh God,” he moaned spontaneously, aloud.

She stirred and murmured, “Are you alright?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Bad dream.”

Roused, she turned over, “Tell me you are alright,” she blinked sleepily at him. He didn’t respond, his eyes exploring every inch of her face, “What was it?”

He moved his head just marginally to indicate a shake.

“There’s something. Tell me.”

He shook his head again. Silence.

“There IS something, … in there,” she tapped her fingers against, then stroked his temple. “Now tell me. Please?”

“I can’t.”

She was now awake. She leaned up on one elbow, “Of course you can. You can tell me anything. Anything at all. Isn’t that what we agreed, even if it’s hard? What is it? …. Jack?”

He looked at her closely and ran his finger down her cheek, “The other day, when we argued…”

She grimaced and sounded dubious, “Yes?”

“You said something about me being more than a policeman to you.”

“Yes, I remember, of course you are, go on…”

“You said about me being a lover too.”

“I think I may have used the word ‘wonderful’ if I recall,” she coaxed him.

He smiled slightly, just the corners of his mouth showing it, then frowned in concentration, “It wasn’t always like that, for me.” He looked down refusing to make eye contact with her.

“Is it something in the past, about past people, places, times, about you and another person, another relationship?”

He nodded.

“Unless you want to talk about it, and I’ll even listen to that, why don’t you leave it there, if it’s over and past?”

“Some things don’t go away. They seem to stay dormant for a while, then present themselves when I least expect them.”

“I think it takes a lot for two to be truly compatible as lovers. People aren’t a natural fit, despite the biology, the physiology. What we have is all that matters now. And it’s special, isn’t it? Very special?”

He held her closely to him, “Yes, it is. I think so too. You are the most perfect partner. But, you haven’t, just, just been humouring me?”

“I’m not that good an actress! Surely you must feel it, see it, hear it, taste it, sense it. How could it be otherwise?” She recognized there was much more to his current mood and added, “You don’t have to bear the full responsibility for everyone else’s behaviours you know. You can’t be blamed for other people’s actions, choices, nature, not altogether. Sometimes yes, it takes two. But if you weren’t compatible, you and this other person, isn’t it better that you’re not with that person now?” She knew it was Rosie but didn’t use her name, thinking it better to talk in generalities. 

“I should have made more of an effort. I made none.”

“So you and she might be living in marginal marital misery rather than complete. As do many couples I know in fact. Prolonged unhappiness for the sake of what? Public face? Some myth of security? Obligation?”

“For some, there is no choice. My mother for example. She had no means at all; she couldn’t have left even if she had chosen to.”

“I’m sorry, of course not. But if we are talking about you and your choices, surely you have made the right one. If you had made some effort and achieved some kind of reconciliation, maybe we wouldn’t be here now – you and I! Is that what you would prefer?”

“No, not at all. Not for one second. But I can’t imagine what she must think and say of it all, of me. Well I can imagine actually.”

“Why? What did she say?”

“That the lack of compatibility, as you call it, was my fault… That I was…um… hopeless.”

“But you know that simply isn’t true so why concern yourself about it. What does it matter? Do you care that much?”

“I shouldn’t. But I don’t think any man likes such an assertion made against him – it does rather cut to the quick, your manhood questioned, maligned. It nags away, you blame yourself even if you know deep down that it can’t be entirely your fault. Like other things that never seem to go away. I can’t help it.”

She seized her opportunity and spoke deliberately, “You are an enigma Jack Robinson. You have me completely baffled. You take on others’ burdens and wear them as a cloak of guilt. And by other things you mean your war experience. You weren’t responsible for those who didn’t come back, or didn’t come back in one piece, or couldn’t find work. I don’t mean to sound like a propagandist cliché but you served your country. You did your duty. You endured horror and agonies too. You didn’t come back uninjured yourself, it was just that there were no physical injuries to treat, nor obvious scars. You let these things weigh you down rather than subject yourself to healing like those with the physical injuries had to do. You talk as if your survival shouldn’t have happened. You mustn’t do this. Not any more.”

“Now I have you, I think things may be different. You make things, everything, easier to deal with.”

“I hope so. Please think about this overwhelming load you carry. Or at least let me carry it with you. It’s illogical and you are completely unfair on yourself.”

He hesitated, “Thank you.” She smiled and he smiled back, and reached out to her face, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ear. “I have told you how much I love you, haven’t I?”

She gave him one of her mischievous looks, “No, I don’t think you have…. How much?”

He flopped onto his back and extended both his arms wide on either side of him, “More than this much.”

She rolled over to the bedside table to the collection of lotions and oils that populated her side of the bed, and then propped herself on her elbow, “Massage?”


	13. Lucky for Some

Monday morning set the tone for the day - busy. Jack had agreed to drive the children to school, and in Miss Fisher’s car, to the whoops of delight of Pam and Nev. It meant the return from the Easter holidays was a less distasteful event than it might otherwise have been. Nev particularly thought it would give him great kudos to arrive in an Hispano-Suiza and Pam liked the fact that her uncle would walk her into the playground and wait until she was in line.

This allowed Alec, Cath and Phryne to set up the clinic including scheduling in an appropriately discreet meeting with Fanny who had been sent a note requiring her to attend an urgent follow-up appointment. She would be asked into the house where she would meet with Jack and Phryne to, it was hoped, give her support to their visit to her establishment. It was a risk, they all knew it, to have her onside and cooperating.  


The appointment with Fanny was set for 11 am and once she was in the doctor’s consultation room, Alec outlined that there were some who wished to meet with her privately upstairs in connection with Nell’s disappearance and murder.

She was introduced to Phryne and Jack in the parlour. Phryne, by agreement, took the lead, handing over her card,  
“Fanny, I agreed to help Kitty when Nell’s body was found on the docks. But we wanted to meet with you. Thank you for agreeing to see us. Jack, my partner here will assist us too if you are willing. But we need to ask you about what you know. Nothing you say will go beyond these walls.”

Fanny nodded but shifted uncomfortably. Phryne continued,  
“We know about the links between other establishments like yours in the east and razor gangs, we know about the cocaine suppliers. But we don’t intend to find an avenue for prosecution of your business. Our only interest is in finding Nell’s’ killer.”

“Miss Fisher, I trust Dr O’Connell and Mrs O’Connell. They have been good to me and my girls. So if you are friends of hers, I will do what I can. But I have to say that this has hit us very hard.”

“So, what about Nell then? Do you have any idea what could have happened, who she was seeing, what associations she had?”

“To tell the truth, I am very upset, because I can’t think what could’ve happened to her. She was one of my best girls. Very popular. It has hurt my business very bad. I can tell you that it was not my doing. Of that you can be sure. So if it’s someone she met at mine, then we are all a bit edgy.”

“So, do you have connections with the gangs? Do you have protectors who you must keep onside?” Jack asked.

“No, not like in the east. We are small fry. Not saying we don’t have customers with associations, and I need my sources for the cocaine. And I know some of the local coppers of course, they turn a blind eye. But I don’t run a gang if that’s what you’re asking.”  


“But how would you know if there were a link between these gangs and Nell? Some of your customers may well have connections, could she have got mixed up with the wrong people?”

She snorted, “That’s a laugh. Call yourself a private dick. Well obviously she got caught up with the wrong sort. She’s dead isn’t she with her throat cut? Listen Miss, I know enough people and people know me - I said I know coppers, I know politicians too, they’d tell me if my establishment was in any danger from Tilly’s or any of her gangs or my girls involved.”

Jack cut straight to the chase, “So what’s your view then? You think there’s connection with your place. You said you were nervous, the girls too. What is your take on it?”

“Ooh, he’s a one Miss, your partner. And good looking too if you don’t mind me saying.”  


“Yes, he’s quite sharp for a travelling salesman.”

“To tell the truth, we’re all a bit jumpy because we think it was one of ours. Someone she met. Maybe one of the regulars, maybe a one off. We get all types, you’d be surprised.”  


“The one offs, they’d be who, sailors, foreigners, that sort?”

“Yes, the sailors always whenever a boat is in at the docks, we’re busy. It could have been one of them. We get the regulars from all walks of life, the coal mine, local workers, but we get professional too – coppers, politicians, doctors, lawyers, … travelling salesmen,” she winked at Jack.

“So you don’t know of anyone she might have been seeing, a boyfriend, someone who could have lured her on an outing, a rendezvous, a date?”

Fanny shook her head, “I don’t encourage the girls to do that. It just complicates things. Not saying that if doesn’t happen. And Nell was a popular one, very pretty, good at what she did, kept everyone happy. But I don’t like them mixing business with pleasure so to speak. Not easy to have a boyfriend in our line of business Miss Fisher. Men don’t seem to understand, shall we say?” She looked accusingly at Jack.

“What about her possessions?” asked Jack. “Is there anything that might give us a clue to her movements? Could we look through them?”

Fanny shrugged her shoulders, “Was just about to clear it all up and toss it away.”

“Have the police been through it? Taken anything?”

“They came and had a look but they didn’t take anything I know of, they might of; didn’t ask me to keep her stuff. They are nice young men, they know us and look after us. But didn’t seem to be anything worth keeping for clues it seems.”

Phryne pushed, “Are you sure Fanny?”

“Well there’s her book. The police wanted it but it wasn’t there, it wasn’t with her things.”  


“Tell us about the book.”

“All the girls keep them, well the ones that can write. They keep the clients each day to make sure I pay them right. They make a note of the regulars and what they like. Good for business.”

“And you have Nell’s book?”

“I reckon Kitty has it. They are all that nervous they’d be looking at it to see the names.”

“So they write down the clients’ names? That could be rather intimidating for clients who would want their anonymity maintained. Dangerous surely. That could be worth killing for.”  


“Not their actual names. Course not. You don’t think anyone does that do you? But the girls have their own names for them all. You know their looks, their likings …that kind of thing.”

“So you think Kitty would give it to us? It could be really important.”

Fanny shrugged. Then Phryne and Jack outlined the plan, for Phryne to be one of the girls and Jack a customer, for them to observe, talk to girls, look through Nell’s things, see what they could uncover. They would need a space with access not too secluded to watch the passing trade.

Fanny looked very dubious, “Look, I can’t say I don’t want answers, but I don’t want any trouble either. And can I ask why you would want to do it? What’s it to you? Why do you care about a tart you never met? What’s it got to do with you? If it weren’t for the good doctor and Mrs O, I wouldn’t be listening to you.”

Phryne looked completely taken aback, “Because that is exactly what I do, without any favour. Kitty asked for my help and I agreed to give it. And as you know Jack’s sister and brother-in-law, there was a connection. And I am particularly keen to help women in trouble. Jack is helping because I asked him to. And I presume the police investigation has slowed?”

“The police done what they could, they say they’re all a bit stumped.” 

“We’ll come tonight and you’ll find us a room where we can observe. What will you tell the girls?”

“I thank you, both of you, for caring about Nell. You can have her room. I’ll only tell Kitty and one or two of the others. Just the ones who knew Nell. The more they all know, the less I like the sound of this. Come by about 6 then.” Then, winking again at Jack, “You can come a bit earlier if you like darling.”


	14. Long Night

Phryne was heavily made-up with her eyes shadowed and lined, her cheeks highlighted and lips and nails even redder than usual. She wrapped her trench coat around her, the belt cinched in tightly, her black stockings and shoes contrasting the pale cream gabardine. 

“I wish you had worn a few more items of clothing under your coat,” said Jack.

“My only aim is to please my client. And you are saying you don’t like my underwear?”

“Of course I do but you will distract me with it. And others…. And we have work to do.”

Fanny was waiting anxiously for them, tapping her finger on the desk dimly lit by a tiffany lamp. She shifted from one foot to the other, snapping impatiently at any of the girls who came into her vicinity. The rest of the entry was subdued too, lined in heavy fabrics with an aspidistra on a plant stand shielding the entrance to the rest of the establishment.

“This way, this way,” she said on seeing them come in, beckoning to them both, and taking them through to the back,  
“This is Nells’ room, and all her things are here. Kitty will be here directly so you can talk to her about the book. This is one of our best rooms, it’s got such a nice feel to it, and you can keep these curtains ajar and the light off when you’re ready. All the clients need to walk past here to get to the stairs or one of the back rooms.”

She had used the word “room” generously, the space being little more than a curtained-off corner by a corridor. Jack looked dubiously at the shabby fabrics on the cushions and curtaining and wondered if the sheets on the bed were clean. Following his gaze, Fanny remarked,  
“Yes, I’ve changed the sheets but I’m expecting them to stay that way, clean.”

“Of course!” Jack looked horrified at the suggestion.

Phryne took off her coat and sat on the bed, a picture of sultry seduction. Fanny looked at her admiringly,  
“You’ll do very well Miss Fisher, I must say. Or it’s Fern isn’t it? And Jack, you look the model of a nervous client. So you are both playing your parts and I’ll leave you to it. I’ll tell Kitty to come by as soon as she’s finished.”

“Fanny,” Jack added as she left, “You will let us know if there is anyone who asks for Nell particularly? Unless he’s very clever, we could discount anyone who doesn’t know she’s gone.”

He could do nothing more than raise an eyebrow as Phryne lolled on the bed, adjusting the straps on her black satin camisole, straightening her stockings and smoothing the lace on her French nickers.

“So do you think I am playing my part well, Jack?” she leant back on the bed and swung her legs to and fro.

“Yes, I do and if I weren’t very happily in a relationship with a gorgeous woman I would be sorely tempted, Fern.”

“Well I’m not one to kiss and tell, so she’ll never know…”

He smiled indulgently and got up and started looking around the room. He put on a pair of gloves then took the large mirror and positioned it so that it reflected the gap in the curtaining, rather than the bed, so they could observe the passers’ by from the bed without their being able to see in; he then began going through Nell’s things, item by item. Her entire world appeared to be the contents of a chest of drawers in one corner of the room and a hat stand in another: a few drawers of clothes and cheap jewellery, a couple more of make-up, creams, oils and unguents, candles and perfume. Jack removed a small pile of papers and took them back to the bed, then went over to the hat stand where, apart from some extravagant headwear and feather boas, there were handbags and a small pile of shoes on the floor. He went through each of the bags and removed anything that might have been considered a clue.

“No book?”

“Doesn’t seem to be.” Jack went through each piece, Phryne leaning against him: postcards, bought but never sent or kept as mementos: Bondi Beach, Chinatown; greeting cards for Christmases and birthdays past but they all seemed to be from the girls, Kitty, Polly, Maisie, Val; a letter from a Mrs Gibbons wishing her good luck with the new job in Sydney. 

“Mrs Gibbons, worth following up? Might be a friend or a pseudonym?”

“Let’s keep it.” He placed it in a paper bag then continued with the contents of the handbags. “And what about this? Matches from the Royal Sydney Golf Club.” He dropped the flap of matches into the bag with the letter. 

Their endeavours were interrupted by Kitty who slipped silently into the room.  
“Hello Miss, Sir. Oh Miss, you do look beautiful!” She herself was wearing a rather tattered satin robe with a Japanese pattern.

“Hello Kitty. How are you? Are you alright?”

“Yes, much better now Miss, especially as you are both here. Every day it gets a bit better,” she sniffed. “I think you wanted this,” she handed over a paper bag with a diary in it. “It’s Nell’s book.”

Jack took it, “Thank you Kitty. Can you explain how it is coded?”

“Well, she was quite careful and detailed. It has every client each day and something about some of them, so that if they become regulars she’d know what they liked. Not for some of the fly-by-nights, the sailors and them, because they weren’t likely to come back but the regulars she’d make a note.”

“So, just for this year? It starts in January.”

Kitty shrugged. “That’s the only one she has. Not sure if she had other ones or she throwed them out. Not the sort of thing you want anyone else to see. Especially if your name’s in it. Right?”

Phryne asked her in a low voice, “Is there anyone in there, anyone at all, a name, a description, that means anything to you, that leaps out at you as someone she spoke of, may have been special to her, she may have been tempted to meet?”

Kitty shook her head, “Not what I can tell.”

“Let’s have a look at the week before she disappeared,” pressed Jack. “Do you know, can you tell me about any of these? He started to read aloud: sailor Jose, black eyes, brown shoes - (he cleared his throat) standing up, sailor Jose, small hands – tie up,…. So that sailor seems very regular, twice in one day.”

“No,” she said scornfully, “that means Spanish that’s all. A Jose. If it says Mack that means a yank, Fred is a Brit, Pat is Irish, Luigi Italian, Con’s a Greek. That’s how it goes. Brown shoes, well he likes it standing-”

“Yes, yes, I see that,” interrupted Jack.

“I have to go. I’ll come back when I have a break. It will start getting busy directly.”

Phryne and Jack pored over the book’s entries, and decided to start from 1st January and work through systematically, noting any regulars. They made do in the dim light of a single lamp by the bed so they could turn it off to observe the people as they passed. A steady stream kept their analysis of the diary slow and torturous, as they turned off the lamp and watched the mirror intently whenever they heard footsteps. After several hours they had a list of ten, including the two noted earlier:  
Brown Shoes - standing up  
Small Hands – tie up  
Bad Teeth – behind  
Big Boy – clothes on  
Ginger – short  
Flabby – on top  
Limp – strong  
Thigh Mole – leather  
Scar Face – keen  
Four Fingers – the usual

“So what do you suppose some of these things mean? Apart from the obvious. What do you think ‘strong’ and ‘keen’ mean, and what’s ‘the usual’ for Four Fingers? Ginger and ‘short’, are they both descriptions of him or what he likes?”

“You know it really does seem to debase things doesn’t it? An act that you and I might think of as intimate and loving, looks here like something smutty and grubby.”

“Jack, it could never be anything but intimate and loving with you. You haven’t a smutty bone in your body.” She kissed the top of his head.

“ ‘Strong’ may be that he comes on strong, very intense.”

“But that could be the same for ‘keen’ too though couldn’t it? There must be a difference. Maybe ‘strong’ held her down, was very domineering, and ‘keen’ was youthful and enthusiastic.”

“Perhaps I should go downstairs and ask Fanny about them – see if she recognises anything, anyone from the list, and then who of them has asked for Nell in the last week and who hasn’t. Not that I want you alone in here. I’ll come back and find you with Bad Teeth or Four Fingers or Big Boy and then I’d be forced to fight him off.”

“Well at least you’d have an advantage over each.”

“How so?”

“Well you have nice teeth, and a full set of fingers and you’re-

“Alright, alright, maybe we wait and ask Kitty first.” He lay back on the bed, his hands behind his head, keeping his eye on the mirror to reflect the passing trade. She lay comfortably beside him and he idly put an arm round her shoulder, “I am pleased you came with me. It would have been lonely here without you.”

Kitty eventually called in looking slightly bedraggled and tired. 

“You’re looking a bit tired,” said Phryne. “But we are in need of your help again.”

“ I’ve got a half hour now but I want to go and get a cuppa.”

“Of course, but can you have a look at this list and have a think about the names and see if any of them mean anything to you, whether they might ring a bell with something Nell may have said?”

“Hmm, well we all know Flabby, he’s a regular all right and Four Fingers. She wouldn’t have been tempted out by either of them. The others I’m not so sure. Ginger, short, hmmm, that rings a bell, what was it she would say? ‘Short by name and short by nature’ and let’s see, Scar Face, keen, she said the same thing: ‘keen by name and keen by nature’. She had her own codes, we’d laugh about them, she had such fun with them, but we never really took them seriously, never thought we’d need to. Wish I’d paid more attention now.”

“Any of these special? Nice enough that she’d agree to go on a date with or meet somewhere?”

She frowned, shook her head, sniffed loudly.

“What about any of the other girls. Could they know anything more?”

“No, I’m the one who knew her best.”

“Thanks Kitty, go and have your tea.”

Once she’d left they both looked at the list again. “What if some of these were names after all?” Jack mused, “Kitty said she used the term ‘By name and by nature’. Short is a surname as is Strong and Keene, albeit spelt differently. Could these be very obvious clues to their identities? Maybe Short or Keene or Strong knew of the book and that they were named?”

The sound of footsteps heralded the need to turn off the lamp yet again and they both instinctively looked at the mirror. Jack saw the face, ruddy and scarred, the hooded eyes, the thin hair, the stoop. Instinctively he grabbed Phryne and dragged her to him to shelter their faces from any chance of view, keeping her back to the entrance. The footsteps slowed and stopped, the curtain seemed to be slightly, ever so slightly, pulled ajar by a claw-like hand, momentarily. Phryne felt Jack’s heart pounding rapidly. Then the footsteps resumed down the corridor.

“Who is it? Who did you see?” whispered Phryne.

“I know that face. I’ve met him.” He got up and closed the curtain fully and started pacing up and down.

“Where?”

Jack wracked his brain trying to locate the face in place and time, “… at the Golf Club, with Alec, Herman Keene.”

“Keene by name and keen by nature!”

“Has to be.”

“Do you think he opened the curtain? I felt as if he did. No-one else has done that.”

Jack nodded, “Perhaps he wanted to know who had taken Nell’s place, if he knew that she wasn’t around.”

“And he’s a friend of Alec’s? How awful!”

“No, no, not at all. He ingratiated himself into our drinks round. Alec said he was one to be avoided. A city barrister who defends known criminals using some unorthodox means. He chatted to me, told me he knew of the clinic and had represented some of the same people. He was extremely unpleasant. He even invited me to play a round with him.”

“Did he single you out?”

“Only in that no-one else wanted to engage with him. I’ll go and speak to Fanny and see who he asked for.” He looked carefully out through the curtain, “Phryne, please, promise me, you won’t try anything while I’m gone. If he’s involved, you could be in danger if he approaches again. Keep the light off. Please?”

“Very well.”

“Promise me.”

“Cross my heart,” she crossed scarlet fingernails across the lace of her camisole and looked up at him coquettishly from under the fringe of her bob.

Jack walked quickly and quietly down to the desk. It was manned by someone he didn’t recognise.

“I need to speak to Fanny please.”

“Who wants her?” said the rather uncooperative under-study.

“I need to speak with her urgently.”

“What about? What’s so urgent that you can’t ask me? What’s the matter? If you want a refund, nothing doing. They’re the rules.”

Jack looked exasperated, “It’s nothing like that. It’s a matter that only she can deal with. Please let me know where she is.”

“On a break.”

“Can you tell me where?”

“Off limits for clients.”

“Well I’ll see Kitty then. Where is she?”

“Busy, and if you’re finished, you can go.”

“I’m not finished.” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He turned and went back to their room but stopped suddenly, motionless, as he saw the curtain open, Phryne standing and talking to Keene! Jack hung back into the shadows, looking for a place to observe them without being seen. He wasn’t confident that Keene wouldn’t recognise and remember him. From the corner of her eye Phryne saw him as he ducked behind the curtain opposite their room, her glance causing Keene to turn and look but he saw nothing but the movement of the drape.

“I’ll have to come back and see you tomorrow then,” he continued a dialogue that had obviously already begun.

“Yes you will. I look forward to that,” she cooed.

“Tell you what,” he leered at her, “Seeing as you’re all alone, why don’t we go downstairs for a cigarette? I’ll see to it that you can have a break. They know me well.” He held out a box of Sobranie Cocktails to tempt her.

Jack’s stomach turned over, begging silently that she would refuse.

“I’ll get me coat then,” she left Jack’s view momentarily and returned with her coat, and took Keene’s arm.

Jack’s heart sank.


	15. Darkness

They walked arm in arm past the curtain behind which Jack stood. He waited then followed silently when he thought it was safe to do so. They left by the front door, he nodding at the desk as he did so.

Jack was relieved to see that Fanny had returned. He went up to her quickly, she looking panicky at seeing Miss Fisher leaving with a client.

“He’s possibly our man. Do you recall him coming in this evening? Who did he ask for? Someone other than Nell by any chance?”

She looked distressed, “Must have been on me break love. Sorry. I’ll ask Val.”

“No time for that. I’m going to follow them. But I need to make a private telephone call first.” She indicated he could make it in a room behind her and he slipped into a parlour. Once emerged, he continued, “They’ve gone outside for a cigarette. Hurry now Fanny - ring the police. Or send Kitty.”

“What shall I tell them?”

“Tell them you strongly suspect that the person who murdered Nell is just outside your premises. I’ll keep watch. Tell them I’ll alert them to his location when they get here.”

“You want them to arrest him?”

“Not necessarily but that will be for them to determine. They may just have a chat with him, or even question him. But they need to know our, well your suspicions.”

In the street he saw their silhouettes on the footpath nearby, Phryne leaning against a wall, Keene standing opposite her. Jack looked for a place he could remain, unobserved and turned and went in the other direction, crossed the road, then stood in an alleyway, confident that the dark unlit side of the street sheltered him from view.

Phryne drew on the cigarette, hoping that her lack of recent knowledge of smoking wouldn’t show, casting her mind back to the heady smoke-filled rooms of the artists’ studios in Paris where she smoked Gitanes and Gauloises with René Dubois. 

Keene rested a hand beside her against the wall, so that he stood close and leaned over her.   
“So tonight’s your first night at Fanny’s then?” he leered.

She nodded, blowing smoke upwards, above his head.

“You’re quite a one. Where’ve you been before here?”

“Melbourne. Just come up the other day.”

“How did you know about Fanny’s then?”

“Contacts. Fanny said she had a girl leave. Lucky for me.” She tried not to look at him with revulsion, thinking of his treatment of Nell, “You know the girl who left?”

He shook his head, “Lucky for me too then.”

“Yeah? You got anyone special at Fanny’s? Or ready for someone new?” 

“Maybe. If you’re a good girl.”

She ran her finger down a scar on his face. “What’s this? You been in the war? A hero, yeah?” She found him disgusting.

“Something like that.”

“So why didn’t you choose me room then tonight? Walked right past me first. Only called in on your way back.”

“I think you may recall you were busy. But play your cards right, and I’ll make you my first stop next time.”

“Yeah? You’ll make it worth me while then?” Phryne was playing for time, waiting for him to reveal something that would link him to Nell. “Can I have another of those cigarettes, maybe a pink one now?”

“Tell you what, how about we go for a drive? I have my car around the corner. Nice drive down by the water? Then I’ll give you another cigarette.”

“Na can’t, got to finish me shift. Can’t be caught going out on me first night. Fanny’ll be rid of me by tomorrow. She has rules.”

“I’ll fix it with Fanny. Don’t worry. Come on, we can get to know one another.”

“I’ll get me bag then.”

“No need Fern. I’ll bring you back. You don’t need a thing, not when you’re with me.” He grabbed her wrist tightly, smiling and nodding at her, “You’ll be fine Fern, perfectly safe with me. Nothing can happen when you’re with me. I like that name, … Fern. It’s as if you belong on a forest floor, sheltered from the glare. Perhaps a Maiden Hair? Is that what you are? You’d like me to do that would you Fern, shelter you, protect you?” All the while an impenetrable grip on her wrist.

Phryne thought he qualified for seriously creepy rather than keen if she had a book.

Through the semi-darkness Jack saw them making a move. Then everything started to happen at once.

The sound and lights of an approaching car had Keene momentarily stop and avert his gaze to keep his face obscured. Phryne, on the other hand, looked deliberately over into the glare. Jack stood back further into the shadows. It was the police - Jack recognised them as the two officers from the local station who had come to the crime scene at the dock. They got out of the car and started shining their torches about, each walking in a different direction.

Jack went back up the street and went to cross the road, not quite knowing what he would do but needing to keep Phryne in sight and alert the police to where she and Keene were. 

A slight noise behind him, he turned and glimpsed an arm above his head. Then darkness.


	16. Dim Light

A dark ooze of red-black had seeped onto the footpath; a figure was crouched over the one lying in the gutter. Words started to pierce Jack’s semi-consciousness, isolated words here and there between the poundings in his head.

“Come on sir. Get up. He’s got her. Please get up. Oh God, please help. Get up sir. Can you hear me?”

He tried to move.

“That’s it. Get up, come on, you can do it. Up.” She held a cloth against his head, as he felt the trickle of blood down his face. He staggered as he stood, the figure propping herself under an arm pit.

“Over here. Come on.”

“Phryne. Where is she?”

“Come on. We got to get down the road. Shush now, don’t call out. They mustn’t hear us. Don’t say anything to the cops.”

They struggled across the street, at each step the labour for one lessening as the other’s increased. Kitty propped him against a wall, shook him firmly and whispered, “Look down there.”

At the end of the building and down a side street was a group clustered around a car. Jack blinked and wiped the blood out of his eyes, forcing himself to try and focus on the scene.  
“Who is it down there, who is there?” he whispered to his companion. “I can’t see. Tell me. Are the police here?”

“Shush and listen.”

“Easy Mr Keene. Let her go. Just let her go and we’ll be off. No harm done. You can go on your way.”

Through the fog that was his brain, Jack started to make out the tableau of figures.   
“Oh God no,” he muttered.

Herman Keene was leaning against a car holding Phryne with a vice-like grip, his one arm from her shoulder across her chest, the other holding something to her throat. 

“You’ll let me go will you, if I let her go? You expect me to believe that?” He snorted.

“We sorted it the last time and we’ll do it again. We protect each other. Now just let her go. We don’t want any more trouble. It won’t be easy this time unless you let her go.”

“But she’s mine, I want her,” his voice was strangely shrill. 

As he said it, one of the officers approached slowly, holding his baton aloft, “Easy Mr Keene, just drop the blade. Come on now.”

Phryne kept herself motionless. She wracked her brain for a way for him to loosen his grip. She knew if she could land a deft blow to his groin he would have to release her, even if momentarily, but he clearly knew how to exert the force needed to keep her immobile. She tried to work on the angle she’d need for her elbow or her knee to perform the blow. As he was behind her, her back to him, she believed her elbow was the best option. How to inflict it and what was best in terms of timing? She needed some kind of momentary distraction to allow a simple movement to occur.

“Where’s the boyfriend? Where’s Robinson?”

“We’ve dealt with him. He’s been immobilised. He won’t be causing us any problem.” 

Phryne’s eyes widened at his words. She desperately wondered what they had done to Jack. Was he tied up somewhere? Or worse?

“Look we’re all in this together. You go down and we all go down, we don’t want that. So just let her go and everything will be all right. You’re off the hook, we’re off the hook.”

Jack tried to see if there was a means of getting beyond the vehicle unseen, but there didn’t seem to be any other access. He whispered to Kitty, “How can I get down there, nearer the car? Is there another alley off this street?” 

He looked at Phryne’s face, ashen white, still, silent. “That’s right Phryne, don’t say a word, keep still, keep calm,” he muttered to himself. 

Kitty motioned to him to follow her back down the road. She tapped on the window of a building, the door opened slowly and only by inches, and a face peered out.

“Let us through,” said Kitty urgently to a middle-aged woman, stooped and dirty, “and don’t make a sound. Lock the door behind us. We’re going out the back. Not a word do you hear me? Don’t let anyone else in. No-one.” The woman nodded and moved out of their way.  
Jack pitched beside her, holding the cloth to his head as the blood continued to poor down his face. Through the backyard and out into an alley, he tripped over stones and rubble as he staggered, supported by Kitty. The car with perpetrator and victim then appeared before them, at right angles to where they had been before. They crouched against a fence.

The words of the constable continued, “You know we can fix this. But not if you do it again. We’ll all go down. Come on sir, let her go.”

Keene sneered but Jack thought he was looking nervous and therefore was probably feeling desperate. He suddenly sensed the sound of tyres then the tread of footsteps. He strained to see where they could be coming from. No-one appeared to be moving.

Then a voice, and the unmistakable dress code of a detective advancing down the alley from where Jack had been moments before. The detective with pistol raised, and further back uniformed men in a dark blue.

“Drop it Keene. Move over constable. You too Bell if you know what’s good for you. Drop it now.” He moved closer, step by step, his gun pointing at Keene. The uniformed officers flanked in behind the two junior uniforms in support of the detective, ensuring the two renegades were covered.

Keene clutched Phryne tighter, “One more step and she’s gone. I’ll slit her throat. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again. In for a penny, in for a pound detective.” 

“Easy, easy now. We don’t want that.”

“Get back or I’ll do it,” Keene shrieked, his voice almost hysterical.

The detective responded, “Alright, I’m stepping back. See, I’m stepping back.”

“Put your gun down.” He gripped Phryne tighter and held the blade against her throat. She could feel its impression on her skin.

“I’m putting it down, putting it down.” The detective lowered himself slowly, placing his gun on the ground at his feet.

“Kick it away.” 

The detective kicked it with his foot, the gun skidding on the bitumen, hitting a rise and landing between himself and Keene. Phryne lowered her eyes to see where it had landed without moving a muscle. In so doing her eyes caught a shadow to her right, a huddle against a fence, a shape, an outline that she knew well. She fixed her eyes on the silhouette then the gun. 

“Now move back. I’m getting into the car. And Fern here is coming with me. She likes me and wants to be with me.” The razor blade he held at her throat glinted in the dim light of a window somewhere above.

Jack followed the light and looked up at the window. Almost numb with horror, he bent down and groped around the rubble at his feet. He picked up a large stone from where he stood and took aim, hurling it at the window with all his strength, then doubled over in pain. The stone found its mark, shattering the window. Keene, momentarily fazed, turned his head, the distraction enough for him to slightly loosen his hold on his victim, sufficient for Phryne to seize the moment, slip from his grip elbowing him firmly in the groin, then crouch down and grab the gun and train it on him. Keene, wincing at the damage Phryne inflicted, raised both hands in the air, the razor blade dropping to the ground.


	17. At the End of the Tunnel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr alert: Jack does an eye roll

Chapter 17 – At the End of the Tunnel

Phryne sat in the clinic watching Alec and Cath bending over Jack. They worked quietly and quickly, like two dancers who knew their steps off by heart, one moving forward as the other moved back, minimal words, implements passed between them.  
“swab that… looks deeper there… swab again… three should do it... I’ll need a larger one… this will hurt a bit Jack… keep still… almost done… yes bandage over the dressing.”

“That’s you stitched up. That was a seriously nasty gash, very deep. You will have lost a lot of blood. I’ve given you an injection to ease the pain and it will help you sleep…. Phryne, you’re next.” Jack moved over to where she had been sitting, avoiding the severe gaze of Cath who stood with her hands on her hips.

“But I’ve hardly a scratch.” 

“No, but you could well be in shock. Over here please,” commanded Alec.

Jack hadn’t seen such meek obedience from her before, as she slid into the seat and allowed Alec to examine her.

“Right,” said Cath after they had cleaned and cleared up, “I think we could all do with a stiff drink.”

As they went upstairs, Jack put an arm around his sister’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, “Don’t lecture. Please?”

She looked at him, shook her head and not without some emotion in her voice said “Thank God you are both alive.”

Once settled in the parlour, they could all finally attempt to relax and go through the events of the night, all of them having had a share in the outcome. Phryne nestled into Jack’s side, her feet tucked up beneath her, Jack looking rather dramatic with his head swathed in a bandage; Cath and Alec held hands. It was as if each couple wanted to keep their loved one as close as possible.

Jack and Phryne outlined how they had identified Herman Keene as a suspect, skirting around Phryne’s decision to walk outside with him. 

“So Keene must have picked you out at the Club on Saturday Jack,” said Alec.

“I didn’t think so initially but in those few moments I had before I rang you from Fanny’s, I realised there was a likelihood that it hadn’t been merely chance.”

“How so?” asked Cath.

“First, when we all went down to the docks after they found Nell’s body, Phryne and I waited behind for the police. Alec, you rang the police to notify them and presumably alerted them to the fact that Phryne and I would be there for their arrival.” Alec nodded. 

“We know now that they were the two police officers who had an association with Fanny’s and with Keene. They were there to minimise any investigation.”

“And Kitty didn’t hang around as soon as she saw them…. I seem to recall. And of course I introduced myself and I gave them my card!”

“Yes, those two officers knew that Phryne and I were associated with you, therefore the clinic, and that Phryne presented herself as a private detective who wanted to be involved with the murder investigation. At the golf club, Keene is not a regular member of your group Alec.”

“Certainly not, he never drinks nor plays with us. But on Saturday he did determine to have a drink in our circle.”

Jack continued, “He asked me whether I was a guest of yours, mentioned that he had clients in common with the clinic, offered to have a round with me today,” he checked his watch, “well yesterday now. And then there was another thing, one of your colleagues Alec, Philip Hudson, got me out of my awkward conversation with Keene by confirming he would be seeing us at the ballet and we specifically mentioned Phryne by name. So if there were any doubt about our association, Keene had it confirmed then.”

“So that all occurred to you after I left with him to have a cigarette?”

“Not as logically as that. Remember too that we found the matches from the Club in Nell’s room? Just a whole lot of pennies started dropping. I thought I had about 5 or 6 minutes, I guessed that’s how long you could make the cigarette last. I was always dubious about Fanny’s discretion and her police contacts; she had mentioned she knew people in the police who turned a blind eye to her dealings, presumably the cocaine supply. So that’s when I rang Cath and Alec to ensure we had some back-up.”

“So who did you contact?” Phryne was intrigued.

“Jack told us the bare bones, that you were reasonably sure it was Keene, that he didn’t trust Fanny’s contacts, and that you, Phryne, were alone and unprotected with Keene outside the premises; he told us to get on to the people we thought could be trusted, beyond corruption, and for them to inform the right police officers. So I rang a few colleagues in the police, and in the judiciary.”

“All from the Club,” put in Cath, “So that very expensive membership you insist on keeping up has paid off!”

“I made sure each knew that I was calling the others.”

“It worked, well it worked well enough in that you are both here, more or less in one piece,” added Cath, “but it was so close. Jack, I know you asked me not to lecture but that was so dangerous what you attempted. What if the distraction hadn’t come off? What if the razor blade had slipped or his movement had jolted his hand? And Phryne can I add (and then I’ll stop) what possessed you to leave the establishment with that man?”

Jack spoke first, “I didn’t think I had an alternative. If he got into that car and drove off with Phryne I thought that would have been it.” He looked down into his drink.

She touched his arm, “I would of course have escaped once I was in the car.” Jack simply raised his eyes heavenward. 

She then looked over at Alec and Cath, unaccustomed to having to account to anyone for her actions, “It allowed us to be certain about his culpability as well as that of the duplicitous police officers. And, I think that if you are going to accept me as part of the family, you’ll need to get used to my …?” she looked over at Jack questioningly,

“Spontaneity? Audacity? Impetuousness? Recklessness? Recalcitrance? Lack of restraint? Waywardness? Obstinacy? Shall I go on?”

“Spontaneity, yes that’s the word, none of the others.”

Jack felt a slight quickening of the pulse at her comment about being part of the family; nor had this been lost on Cath or Alec. 

Alec spoke on their behalf, “Well Phryne I think we are all pleased, very pleased, to have you as part of the family, and I think Cath and I will look forward to what will be an exciting ride with you on board. Now, having said that, I must be excused. I need to be up in about two hours for work. So I shall see you later at dinner I expect.” He kissed his wife and left them.

“So Keene was obsessed with Nell do you think? Wanted to have her to himself?” mused Phryne.

“He may have seen you as a Nell substitute in that rather warped mind of his. With Nell, sadly, as we know he was a regular, it may have been a case of Keene believing he is ‘one that loved not wisely but too well’ (1).”

“Othello” said Cath getting up, “Nell his poor Desdemona. I don’t think I will sleep, I am completely awake. But can I get you two a hot chocolate? I am going to have one and take one up to Alec. I don’t think you should have any more alcohol either of you, not in the states you are in.”

They both nodded spontaneously and Phryne got up to help.

“Stay there. Sit down please. Give each other a hug.”

“I don’t think I could possibly hug you Jack, you look a fright with that head swathed in a bandage.” She reached up and ran her finger across the bandage then down his cheek. “I knew you were there you know, with Kitty. I sensed it. I saw your outline. I knew it was you.”

“She was marvellous too, Kitty. She must have seen that officer hit me. It was such a risk what she did. We’ll have to go and see her and thank her.”

“I don’t suppose Fanny will keep her on now. We may have to see what we can do for her.”

“I doubt she’d be able to stay. Fanny will feel compromised.”

“Will you get into trouble, do you think? Will it be reported to Russell Street?”

Jack shrugged, “We’ll need to give our statements and see what happens. Hopefully just a rap over the knuckles. They’ll want to know what I was doing at Fanny’s, why I was there, why we didn’t report our suspicions to the authorities here. The stone throwing I imagine will be less of an issue. But in the scheme of things, I don’t care that much.” He paused, “I really thought I had lost you. Keene was sounding so unhinged. You can’t negotiate with a madman.”

“I was scared.”

“So was I. Just as well. That’s when the adrenalin takes over.”

Cath returned with the hot chocolates, “Here you are. Now I’ll wish you both a good night. Jack, you really need to stay in bed tomorrow and rest your head, it is a nasty wound and I’ll need to change your dressing in the morning too. It wouldn’t hurt you either Phryne. Complete rest is what’s needed, nothing energetic.” She suddenly paused, blushing, “I meant those to be independent suggestions - the staying in bed and the lack of activity; I meant no bike riding or anything of that sort. I’ll be around as will Mrs Jenkinson for whatever you need. Good night.”

After she’d gone Phryne said, “There is something about her that commands attention isn’t there? She is very impressive.”

“Yes, I’ve rarely seen you so complaint! Come on, shall we take ours upstairs too? Are you ready for bed too?”

“Always Inspector…”

Once sitting up in bed, drinking hot chocolate, Phryne remarked, “Nothing too energetic now Jack.”

“I wouldn’t dream of going on a bike ride, not tonight Miss Fisher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) In Othello's final speech before killing himself, he states how he would like to be remembered and in so doing attempts to argue his case as to why he suffocated his blameless wife, Desdemona. He claims that whilst what he did was not "wise", he was driven to it by loving her so deeply ("too well"). He claims his absolute passion for her justified the deed. (yeah right). 
> 
> Jack is saying that Keene could be equally delusional, and could well justify his behaviour towards Nell in the same way.


	18. Mild and Sunny

Mild and Sunny

The next few days passed quietly, as they had been instructed, although not without activity – some formal and obligatory, some pleasant and satisfying. 

Police visited to question then require them to make statements about the events of the Monday evening. Phryne made much of her own instigation of enquiries and the subsequent assault; Jack’s role as a police officer from another State was minimised, with an emphasis in the interviews on his position as a citizen who had instigated the informing of police of what he had observed, had waited to alert them and was subject to an unprovoked attack as a result. His purpose for being in Fanny’s was to protect his colleague and friend. Jack hoped that that would suffice and that he would be in a position to account for the events to Russell Street himself, which he had determined to do, before others’ interpretations could prevail and provoke unnecessary and possibly awkward questions. So he drafted a report and sent it through by telegraph, knowing that he would be obliged to explain all on his return. 

Phryne instigated a shopping trip with Cath to encourage her to have something made for the opening night of the ballet that was a little more flamboyant than was her usual style. She was a beautiful woman used to dressing in a way that was classically elegant but understated with minimal accoutrements. With Phryne’s prompting her gown and accessories comprised champagne-coloured satin, with layers of pale golden chiffon and a mass of sequins, a dropped waist and scalloped hemline, a dress that Phryne insisted should be accessorised with a long string of faceted jet beads, matching drop earrings and black headpiece and some new shoes. Cath hesitated, admired, frowned, thought it all extravagant, wavered and ultimately smiled and gave in.

She put her arm through that of her friend, “Phryne, we won’t mention this trip, at least the products of it, when we are at home this evening. Not until Saturday. I don’t believe Alec is used to getting accounts from the fashion houses let alone jewellers that are quite of this magnitude. He can wait and see before judging its worth.”

“He will approve, I know, and so will your brother who is never shy I must say, to comment on a look.” Phryne paused, “If you hadn’t given Jack your half of the family home, you could have been financially independent?”

“To a small extent, not entirely – it is no grand home. You have been there, of course you know it. But we are comfortable, I wouldn’t have wanted to be of a means that left my brother in very reduced circumstances. Why would I?”

“Because you wouldn’t have to worry about buying a new dress and some accessories and considering the cost.”

“I have little in the way independent resources, that’s right. I am reliant on Alec if that’s what you are suggesting. But it has never been an issue; Alec has never put me in a position of my having to ask for anything or account for what I spend. Not that I am extravagant at all, except possibly for today! He manages the finances, largely, but I manage our household budget. We share decisions. I don’t feel kept, we are partners, true partners and I consider myself very lucky to be in the position I am.”

“And he probably feels lucky to have you.”

“We neither of us thought we would marry. I was thirty when we first met and I had resolved I would spend my life with a career in nursing. Alec is ten years’ older than I am, and hadn’t ever had a true attachment at the time. So we enjoy a fairly unique relationship in that we feel had we not met, we neither of us would have been married nor had a family. Please don’t think I am seriously worried about the cost of my outfit. It is just unusual that’s all. And anyhow I can blame you entirely!”

They walked along companionably, and Phryne spoke, “Now where shall we go for some afternoon tea to celebrate? My treat I insist, then we can do the school collection on the way home. And I want to talk to you about Kitty.”

Later that evening at dinner, Cath and Phryne put their proposal in relation to Kitty to the table. 

“There is little chance of Kitty staying on at Fanny’s as Fanny will consider her actions fickle. In all likelihood she will have to leave and she has nowhere else to go that we know of. She will be on the streets until she finds another establishment,” Phryne began.

“She seems intelligent, certainly brave and loyal, so, we wondered about the possibility of her being trained at Sydney Hospital?” Cath looked at Alec.

“You mean in the midwifery course they run? Yes, that’s possible and I presume you chose this one as I’m on the Board?”

“Indeed. You could approach the matron and recommend her or simply put the case to the Board. Phryne has offered to cover the costs. She would live in of course and end up with a recognised qualification and I think she would make a very good nurse. I assume she could then stay on at the hospital.”

“Yes, that is the process once through training. I think it an excellent idea and the midwifery course would suit her age and experiences. I’ll speak to matron, I know her reasonably well; she is rather severe but Kitty wouldn’t have a problem with that! I would then prefer to do things formally through the Board. Better they know everything first than find out later.”

“Have you talked to Kitty?” asked Jack, “But I think you are both brilliant. And here was I thinking you had spent the day in idle activity at some very expensive salons.”

Cath and Phryne exchanged glances, “No, not yet. We thought we might send for her tomorrow, once we had everyone’s approval.”

\----------

Next morning Kitty came nervously into the parlour, playing with the strap of a rather worn handbag.

Jack spoke first and put out his hand to shake hers, “Kitty, I haven’t had a chance to thank you for what you did on Monday night. You were incredibly brave and I don’t know what we would have done without your help.”

“It’s alright sir. I didn’t do nothing much. How’s your head?”

“It’s getting better, looks more dramatic than it really is. Now would you like some tea? Miss Fisher and Mrs O’Connell want to talk to you, so I’ll get it.” 

“How are things at Fanny’s? Is everything there settling down and back to normal?” asked Cath.

Kitty looked down at her handbag and shook her head.

“What has happened?” asked Phryne quietly.

“Fanny has been very nice but says no-one will want me now because of all that happened. She says she’ll try and find me another place but I have to go and very soon. Says she doesn’t trust me no more.”

Cath and Phryne outlined their proposal. Kitty looked at them wide-eyed,  
“Midwifery, that’s with mothers and their babies, yes?”

“It is and we thought you might like that. What do you think? You would have to work very hard.” Cath did not want to guild the lily with the amount of education Kitty would need to gain.

“I know, yes I will do that. You have all been so kind to me and to Nell too, bless her, wherever she is. So Dr O’Connell will put in a good word for me?”

Cath nodded, as Jack brought in the tea tray.

Kitty looked at him and said, “You are very lucky miss with him as your boyfriend and you too Mrs O with a brother like that.” 

Both women smiled and said in unison,“Yes, we are!”

“You know misses, sir, we have plenty of clients from the coalmine. They get danger money for the work they do, they work in very bad conditions, do damage to their bodies, and society approves that they make a living that way. What we do is the same, we girls work in bad conditions, we do damage to our bodies, no danger money for us. And we are thought of as the dregs of society. You never treated us that way.”

“But you would like to try a different path wouldn’t you? We don’t want to appear patronising or force you into something you don’t want to do,” Phryne immediately became concerned.

“I want to do this more than anything. I will work very hard Mrs O, I promise.”

“And Miss Fisher has insisted on paying all the fees and costs. You won’t need for anything while you are studying.”

“I don’t know what to say. I won’t let you down miss.”

“Where will you stay, temporarily?” asked Jack.

“I can go and stay with Hattie for a bit. You remember that place we went through to get to the back alley sir, the other night? That’s Hattie’s. She used to be a street girl back in the day. Not any more, poor old thing. But I can stay there. I have a bit of money put aside.”

“It didn’t look like a home, more a disused warehouse,” Jack sounded dubious.

“It’ll do for a bit. Better than the streets.”

Cath then spoke, “Kitty, you know you will have to get off the cocaine if you are to become a nurse. Dr O’Connell and I can help you with that. It won’t be easy.”

“Yes miss, I reckon I need to do that. So how long do you think before you know if I can do the training?”

“Just as soon as we can. Hopefully a couple of weeks, no more than a month. The hospital board will have to meet and agree to your internship with the next intake. Could well be that you live in before the course starts and that will help with the cocaine treatment. We’ll have to see. But we are confident that it will go ahead, now that we know you are keen.”

“Keen? Don’t mention him, please! But thank you miss, Miss Fisher, thank you Mrs O, thank you sir. I don’t deserve this. It’s like a miracle really. Fancy that, me a nurse and working in a hospital and looking after mothers and their babies. Never know miss, might marry a doctor just like Dr O. Who’d of thought it? Maybe it’s Nell giving me a helping hand from wherever she is. I shall go and give me notice then to Fanny so I can move out now?”

“Yes, but be sure to leave us your details and come and see us at the clinic each week so we can let you know how things are going.”

Kitty sniffed and wiped her eyes and nose, but possibly not from the effects of cocaine.


	19. Opening Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr alert: Phryne's fabulous frocks; countless images of Phryne and Jack; Pam pops the question on behalf of us all; Jack in an evening jacket (tux)

Jack and Alec sat in the parlour with a glass of whiskey, each a picture of sartorial elegance in dinner jackets, both with a white tasselled silk scarf to complete their evening dress, compliments of Phryne.

“I think we shall all miss you, more than usual. It has been quite a visit. I hope you won’t wait too long until you are back, with Phryne too of course.”

“You have put up with rather a lot. It wasn’t intended but Phryne seems to have a knack of finding intrigue or as she says, it finds her.”

“It has worked out, apart from your head wound, which I must say you’ve managed to disguise well for this evening! We do all like her. She really is rather special and you seem to be right for each other. And we are happy for you – at last! One less thing for Cath to worry about on your behalf.” Then speaking in an avuncular fashion continued, “And you’ve thought through how you will manage this relationship have you?”

“You mean how the two of us will manage?”

“Well I was thinking more socially. Whilst it isn’t so very extraordinary any more for people to live together unmarried, it is still not broadly accepted; you know there will be talk. It will affect you more than her for all kinds of reasons.”

“Yes I know. That is something we will have to face. Phryne simply doesn’t care about that kind of thing, the gossip, the idle opinions of others whom she doesn’t respect. I will face it as I need to. I imagine that the Force won’t particularly approve given her line of business and mine tend to converge on some investigations.”

“The gossip will go away when there is nothing to feed it. If the relationship remains strong over time there will no longer be cause for criticism. But it isn’t only your work: Phryne has means and status that entitles her to a position that you don’t have. I am speaking frankly now Jack. She can ignore the critics as she will always be welcome in social circles – society cannot afford to overlook her, particularly in these straightened times. You are in no such position. In fact it could be seen as your being an opportunist, a pariah.”

“She has never made me feel that way. She is incredibly generous but I have never considered myself obliged to her financially or that I need to exceed my wages to keep up with her. I have no intention of giving up my work and we won’t even be formally living together. We will each keep our own homes. I wouldn’t want to give up mine nor she hers.”

“I’m pleased you are thinking it through, that’s all. You are largely unprotected in Melbourne. You have no family, few connections especially now with Sanderson’s position as it is you could be worse off. You need to be aware and not allow yourself to become vulnerable.”

“Is it so different from you and Cath?”

“Yes it is and you know it. What is acceptable in an arrangement for a married couple with the husband as the provider is a far cry from what will be seen, albeit by those whose views we don’t value, as an arrangement that is unprincipled or even immoral. I know society has become far more liberal over the past decade but you will need to develop defences to the barbs and jibes of those who may be less tolerant, less educated and quite plainly resentful of what you and Phryne have. Don’t be alarmed, please just know how much we care about you and what happens to you.” He fetched the decanter of whiskey and topped up their glasses and put his hand on Jack’s shoulder.

Jack nodded, “I suppose I knew all this, just hadn’t looked at things quite the way you have expressed them. She is quite unique you know in being her own person, either oblivious to or dismissive of what others consider are the tenets, the norms, the behaviours that are acceptable. We have talked about us, about Phryne and me, not about the circles beyond. I suppose I just assumed that everyone would be as welcoming as you and Cath have been and I frankly didn’t even start to concern myself about anyone else’s judgment… apart from Phryne’s aunt.”

Mrs Jenkinson brought the pyjama-clad children in to say goodnight, Pam especially jumping and hopping around in anticipation of the ladies appearing, as excited as if she too were joining them, whereas Nev seemed more pleased in being able to stay up and talk to the grownups. Pam stood on one foot and then the other, holding something behind her back the entire time.

“What have you got there Pam?” asked Jack.

“It’s something, … it’s a picture for Miss Fisher,” she responded in her usual lisp, backing away.

“Oh, can I see it?” 

“No it’s for Miss Fisher and I want to ask her something.” 

Upstairs Phryne was in Cath’s dressing room, sitting beside her at her mirror, Cath looking apprehensive,  
“I really couldn’t wear lipstick that red. It looks fabulous on you but I think it would be too much for me. No, definitely not.”

“Well what about this one? It would look lovely with that champagne coloured silk. Try it.” 

“Yes, I like that. What do you think?”

“Yes, that will do very well! Perfect! Now just a light spray of perfume for us both.”

“So, shall we join the gentlemen?”

When they entered the parlour, the impact was everything Phryne had anticipated, and more. Alec was momentarily speechless and literally open-mouthed, Jack grinned from ear to ear. One in palest gold, the other in deep blue and silver, bedazzling in beading and sequins softened by fur stoles.

Once Alec had regained the power of speech, he raised his glass to them, “You look, you both look, wonderful. My goodness Cath, Phryne! I think you may outshine Melba tonight.”  


Jack walked over and kissed Phryne’s hand, “You do look stunning, Miss Fisher.” Then over to his sister, slipped his arm around her waist and whispered, “And you don’t look too bad either.”

Pam gasped, gently touching the sparkling sequins of her mother’s dress, “Mum you look BEE-UUUUUU-TIFUL.”

“Now, let me get you both a drink. We need to toast our last evening together, new friendships and the future, not to mention Cath and Phryne’s fabulous fashions.”

After the cheers, Alec, perhaps confident from the whiskey followed by champagne, said,  
“Now Phryne, I don’t suppose you’ll drive your car this evening? I think it would do justice to the outfits far better than mine. What do you say? I am happy to take the wheel if you would rather not take on city traffic.”

“I would be delighted to drive you all. You will direct me though?”

The children and Mrs Jenkinson stood at the door to say goodbye, Pam sidling up to Phryne looking cautiously to ensure the others had gone on ahead. 

“Look Miss Fisher,” she held out the picture, “This is for you.” She waited while Phryne looked at her work, “Are you going to marry Uncle Jack?”

Phryne looked at the picture of the bride with a dark bob and deep red lips, and a wedding dress and long veil covered in stars, holding hands with a tall brown-haired man in a suit, in front of a building with a tall steeple and cross on the top.

“This is very beautiful. And it is for me?”

She nodded as Phryne crouched down to speak to her, her gown jangling as she did so.  
“Do you know Pam, that sometimes people can love one another without being married? It is very rare but it happens. Well that is the situation with your Uncle Jack and me. We love each other very much and we will be together, but probably not go to a church to be married, especially now I have this picture. I don’t think I could have a wedding dress as beautiful as that. So, may I keep this picture in my purse tonight?”

She nodded again looking satisfied enough with the response. Phryne continued down to the car wondering why she was feeling slightly emotional. Perhaps she had had a little too much champagne.

Jack waited beside the driver’s door for her and ensured her layers of fur and silk were tucked in.

“Can I see Pam’s picture?”

“Didn’t she show it to you?” she handed it to him.

“No, she was very secretive….Oh…my goodness, what did you say?”

“Tell you later,” she slipped her purse onto his lap and took the directions to the Theatre Royal located in the centre of the city.

Pavlova’s opening night was greatly anticipated and had attracted attention from newspaper journalists, the prima ballerina’s devotees, and members of the general public who had come to see the Governor-General and the elite of Sydney society arrive, so a large contingent had gathered outside the recently renovated Edwardian façade of the theatre.  


Uniformed attendants were waiting to assist the queue of cars that drove up beside the foyer entrance. With Phryne at the wheel of an Hispano-Suiza, one of the journalists signalled to his photographer, seeing an opportunity for an image, and as one camera started flashing other journalists jostled for names and a story, with the party of four encouraged to have their photographs taken in the car and then posing again once out: a prominent Sydney surgeon and his wife, well-known for their charity work; a titled Melbourne socialite and her handsome escort; the women’s dramatic evening wear and the classical elegance of their partners’; an exclusive vehicle - were just what they wanted.  
Alec, Cath and Jack were embarrassed at the attention and wished for nothing more than to move inside whereas Phryne appeared to be in her element, smiling and posing but keeping her arm firmly through Jack’s.

The journalists crowded around asking for comment on the prima ballerina and the anticipated performance of Giselle to complement their pictures, with pencils in hand to note the responses:

Cath said that she was looking forward to Pavlova’s interpretation of the role, having heard that she had rejected classical ballet techniques to resurrect the ethereal, delicate qualities of the romantic ballerina, and combined them with her enormously expressive style. Scribble, scribble, scribble.

The journalists moved on to The Hon Phryne Fisher, and not knowing the ballet, she simply turned to Jack, looking up at him to provide a comment:  
“Giselle is the Romantic era crystallised in one perfect work of art. The infatuation, the betrayal, the madness, the haunting supernatural forces are all represented, but of course it is ultimately about the transcendent, redemptive power of love that conquers all.” He looked at Phryne. Scribble, scribble, scribble, another flash of a camera.

The arrival of the Vice-Regal cars saw the journalists and their entourage disappear as quickly as they had descended upon them and the two couples were able to move into the foyer where they soon were ensconced within Alec and Cath’s circle of friends, Phryne introduced and much welcomed, champagne handed around, gowns and accessories admired by the women, appreciative glances from the men.

The theatre featured a large auditorium, two balconies and the boxes, one of which was booked for the O’Connell party and they took their seats on the crimson upholstery of their oval-backed chairs. The neo-classical auditorium could not have been better suited to the two acts that were to follow: lavish, graceful plaster ornamentation, the ceiling covered in concentric circles with motifs of cherubs, dancing nymphs and roses, inset wall panels were decorated with vases and urns and painted ornaments of drapes and ribbons in a complex colour scheme of terra-cotta and pastels of sky blue, pea green and lemon. 

They prepared themselves to be spirited away.


	20. Bon Voyage

A pall of gloom had descended upon the household at breakfast as pleas for Uncle Jack and Miss Fisher to stay one more day, to at least wait until after lunch, for one more bike ride, one after another were apologetically declined. Phryne was, however, very insistent that she could accommodate them all easily in St Kilda, and there followed another round of petitions for their parents to take them to Melbourne and as soon as possible.

The car had been packed and re-packed to ensure all the additional boxes could be safely stowed then farewells taken. Cath hugged her brother and her new friend, Alec more formally shook Jack’s and clasped Phryne’s hands, Nev following his father’s lead. Pam showed no such restraint and threw her arms around her Uncle’s neck then Phryne’s, her unhappiness unable to be consoled.

They planned to stay in the same guest house on the way back as they had on the trip north, Tarcutta marking an appropriate half-way point, although Phryne sensed a certain anxiety on Jack’s part that they wouldn’t be back to Melbourne until Monday evening, and therefore his return to work not until Tuesday.

“Is there merit in attempting to drive straight through today? That would be the alternative. We could have some breaks and share the driving? Then you can go back to work tomorrow.”

“They are not expecting me until Tuesday. No, it would be far too difficult, a twelve hour drive. It would be exhausting and I wouldn’t be in any fit state for work tomorrow anyway. It will be fine, I am being overly apprehensive. It wasn’t worth missing the ballet, was it? We’ll get the paper tomorrow and see what the critics said. And I want to see if your car features above Pavlova!”

“And we will have another day together.”

“You see that as an advantage?”

“Of course I do Jack Robinson!”

Mr Philips greeted them enthusiastically when they arrived at the guest house, “Mr and Mrs Robinson. It is very good to have you here again. No need for any further paperwork. I have it from last time. Would you like the same room?”

“Thank you, yes,” said Jack. There was something strangely comforting about the familiarity of the setting and circumstances as they went to their room arm in arm.

Once inside they both spontaneously flopped onto the bed.

“Are you going to expect me to squash into the bath behind you again?”

“No, not if you don’t want to.”  


“There is so much more room here,” he moved his hand over to hers and brought it to his lips.

“We could have dinner downstairs, pass remarks on the other guests, look at them smugly.”

“We could. Then what would we do?”

“Charades?”

“But you said I didn’t have a smutty bone in my body, and the only thing I would be able to think of after dinner would be making love to you, so charades in that context would definitely be out. I don’t want to ruin the image you hold of me.”  
_________

Jack sat in the lounge next morning with the Sydney Morning Herald and flipped through to the article he wanted to see. 

The transcendent, redemptive power of love conquered all at the Theatre Royal  
Vivid imagery, delicate subtlety, lyrical beauty, magnificent charm, perfect virtuosity - all these belonged to the matchless art of Pavlova who gave so eloquent a meaning to the art of ballet upon her first performance in Sydney. The great dancer showed that she still has the secret of perpetual youth and natural charm. Every action was a joy to behold.… Among those transported to fairyland were the Governor-General and suites and members of Sydney’s and Melbourne’s elite.

Below the article were photographs of Pavlova costumed en croisé, the Governor-General and Lady Sydney, one of Cath and Alec in the back seat of Phryne’s car, and another of Phryne and Jack gazing into each other’s eyes, with the caption, The Hon Phryne Fisher and her escort Mr J Robinson travelled from Melbourne for the premiere, guests of eminent Sydney eye surgeon Mr A O’Connell and Mrs O’Connell (left).

He showed it to Phryne at the breakfast table.

“I wonder where they got that headline. Sounds familiar,” she commented quoting back Jack’s own words, “and they don’t even give you a by-line.”

“But I’ve suddenly become part of Melbourne’s elite! Could you let Mrs Stanley know please?”

“It is rather a nice photograph of us. I think I might keep it.”

“For your glory box?”

“Something like that. Will you drive the first leg today?”

“Yes, gladly.”

“You’re not admitting you like driving my car are you Jack?”

“No I would never admit to such frivolous enjoyment.”

“You admitted to frivolous enjoyment last night,” she gave him one of her coquettish looks that always made him lose his sense of balance.

“That wasn’t frivolous. Well at least I didn’t think so. Did you?”

“Never.” 

_______

Phryne drove up to his door, “Are you sure you won’t come to my place tonight?”

He shook his head. “You need to spend the evening with your family. They will have missed you and will want all of your attention.”

“You won’t miss me?”

“Of course I will. How could I not when I have spent every second of every night with you for two weeks! But I need to unpack and be up early tomorrow for work, and get my own home in order. But come in, just briefly, while I rearrange all this luggage.”

Phryne wandered around, re-familiarising herself with the warmth and cosiness and the albeit somewhat masculine decor of his home and went down to his bedroom to have another look at the wedding photo of his parents that she knew was on his dresser. She wanted to look at the photograph again now that her perspective had been broadened from his account of their marriage. She looked at the couple, serious and formally posed in a studio, the dark, penetrating look of his father, the beauty of his mother seated soberly beside him. 

Then a thought occurred to her. She remembered the frame she had found in one of his dresser drawers, the photograph of a young Jack and Rosie, taken at one of their happier moments. She dug around and it was still there where she had found it previously, face down. She took it out and opened the back of the frame and from her purse took out the cutting from the newspaper of herself and Jack, and slipped it into the frame over the other image. She propped it onto the dresser, between the wedding photograph and that of the family portrait, then sat back on his bed to admire it as he walked in with a suitcase and boxes.

“What have you been up to?”

“Nothing…”

“Why is it I don’t believe you? Would you like some tea or a drink before you go?”

“No, I had better go straight home. Will you come to me tomorrow night?”

He sat beside her on the bed, “Yes, I’ll come after work. Would that suit? It might be late.” 

“Of course, it will never be too late,” she leaned over and kissed him. 

He couldn’t quite fathom what it was, whether it was seeing her sitting on his bed looking so at home, whether it was the thought of spending the night alone, the crushing feeling of being back at work the next day, the feeling he was about to lose something precious, but he felt an overwhelming desire to hold her close, take her, be part of her.  


He responded to her kiss, lightly then strongly and passionately. Something within him was roused and she heard the groan of desire as he firmly but gently pressed her back down onto his bed, pushing aside the counterpane and lowering her onto the pillow. His mouth possessed hers, and he felt her response with her lips and tongue. His hands wandered up her thighs, under her skirt, his fingers moving over the bare skin between her stockings and nickers then under the lace and silk. He felt her warm and wet to his touch and slid his finger and thumb inside her, penetrating and caressing as she arched her back and threw her head back at his touch.

She groaned and began moving her hips rhythmically to his probing, her body quivering as he found the spot that made her gasp, stroking and pressing until she thought she could not contain the urge to abandon herself to fulfilment. She clung to his hair then ran her fingers down his back, her nails clawing at his skin. She instinctively moved her hands down to his belt, undoing the buckle then the buttons and zip, feeling him swollen and throbbing. She stroked him then guided him into her as he moaned and buried his face into her neck, moving inside her with unrestrained energy, grasping her hips, feeling her rhythm, and her groans at climax. He bit into her skin and ran his hands over her body, still largely clothed, sighing as he peaked. 

Then rolling beside her, he pulled her to him, stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. “You wanted to go and now I’ve delayed you,” the corners of his mouth just twitching in a smile.

“You are incorrigible,” she ran a finger down his cheek.

“Are you sure I can’t get you something before you go?”

She shook her head, and got up, adjusting her clothes, tucking herself in, “I’d better go or you will tempt me to abandon my household and stay the night. And Janey is anxious for me to be back. You know how Aunt Pru gets on her nerves.”

“Until tomorrow night then, Miss Fisher,” he accompanied her out to the car to see her off.

He wandered back into the house and into the bedroom, his hands in his pockets, his shirt undone and untucked, opened his suitcase and the accumulated boxes that represented the purchases that had increased his wardrobe after every shopping expedition between Phryne and Cath. He started unpacking and hanging up items and sorting his laundry before noticing the new photograph on the dresser. He smiled as he picked it up, tracing his finger around her profile in the image; perhaps this was going to be beyond the now, beyond the present. He hoped so.

He showered and was about to call it a night when he heard a knock at the door, he looked through to the front door and saw her outline through the glass panelling, head bowed, the shape of coat. He walked to the door and as he fumbled for the keys called through,  
“So you couldn’t resist me after all?” 

He threw open the door, his expression transformed from roguish to shock in an instant,  
“Rosie!”


	21. Remembrance of Things Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr alert: Jack's hair is tousled; Jack raises an eyebrow and there's a final JPS

“Good evening Jack, I know it’s late. May I come in?”

“Of course, but you’ll need to excuse my attire, I’m not dressed for company. I was about to go to bed.”

He tried to smooth his hair, tousled from the shower, to regain some formality, and showed her through to the lounge. As she walked past the bedroom he noted she cast an eye into the room. He closed the door to it on his way past, a gesture not missed by his visitor, his knowing she would have seen the bed unkempt. She was dressed rather elegantly in grey satin with a white fur stole. There was a faint perfume of gardenia.

“Would you like some tea? I haven’t any milk, I’ve been away. Black with lemon?”

“Perhaps something stronger?”

He went over the cabinet and poured her a whiskey and one for himself.

“How are you? Is something the matter? This is a surprise.”

“I’m well Jack. Nothing’s the matter. I was passing and saw your light on, and thought I’d like to catch up, that’s all.”

“So how is the family holding up? How is George?”

“It’s been very difficult as you know. We are all hopeful. He is confident that he will be exonerated. He was completely manipulated by Sidney. Sidney of course abused his relationship with Father, we can all see that now. And obviously used me too. You must see that too Jack.”

“Well I didn’t really know Fletcher when we were married. I don’t think we saw any of him socially, did we? Not that I recall.” Jack was surprised at how easily he talked about their marriage, the time that was. “Have you been out this evening? You look like you’re dressed for an evening out.”

“The outfit is new. Do you like it? We’ve been to a jazz concert at The Esplanade.”

Jack wondered if he was supposed to ask who “we” was, and was loathe to commit to a compliment on her outfit, which was indeed very fetching, but left him unmoved.

“You look very nice. Was the concert enjoyable? That’s a good venue for jazz.”

“Yes, very. You said you’ve been away?”

“I’ve been on leave for a fortnight, so went to Sydney, visited Cath and Alec.” He deliberately didn’t use the first person plural.

“How are they? All well?”

“Alec’s work continues to be very busy in his own practice and at the hospital; they’re still running the clinic together from home; Cath never changes, she’s as remarkable as ever. Nev and Pam were on school holidays for a week too so I saw a lot of them.”

“I thought they were both rather indulged by Cath. Is that still the case?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Nev is growing up, quite the young man; he’s going to high school next year. I went cycling with him a lot. Pam is still very cute, really gorgeous. She is developing quite a talent with her drawings. I think they are wonderful children and very well brought up. Perhaps we have different views on what constitutes good parenting.”

“Is your bathrobe from Sydney? It is rather elegant for you!”

That’s slight number two thought Jack. He felt somewhat ill at ease, trying to fathom the reason for this late night visit; it was after 11 pm. The robe was indeed from Sydney, bought for him by Phryne on one of her shopping trips with Cath, and was a Beacon blanket robe in deep blue with amber and golden-brown diamond patterns. It was very stylish and he liked it. He sensed her damning him with faint praise, by insinuating that his wearing it was inconsistent with the style of the garment. That he was not good enough for it.

“Yes it is actually.” He paused to try and push her to state her purpose, “… Rosie, I am sorry but I am back at work tomorrow and have to be up quite early in the morning…”

“Oh I won’t keep you up. I’ll just finish this drink then I’ll be off. Did you drive to Sydney?”

“Yes, with an overnight stop on the way and the way back.”

“You took your own car then?”

So this is it, thought Jack. She has come to ask about Phryne and me.

“No, I went with a friend. We shared the driving so it worked well.”

“The Hon Phryne Fisher”, said with exaggerated emphasis, “I assume was the friend, and she stayed with you at Cath and Alec’s?”

“Yes.”

“What on earth did Cath think of that?”

“They got on extremely well.”

“So it is true that you and she are stepping out together? I assume you thought I was she at the door this evening?”

“Rosie, this is not something I can discuss with you. If we go on I feel we would launch into a conversation that will not be comfortable for either of us.” Jack spoke so calmly and deliberately, he felt strangely relaxed and in control, not a usual occurrence with Rosie where he was habitually defensive or capitulating.

“You do know, don’t you, what she is?” Rosie was not to be so easily restrained.

“I don’t know what you are alluding to but I know that you are going to tell me, no matter how I answer the question.”

“Because you know very well or you ought to. Everyone else does. She is nothing more than a wealthy hussy. She is tolerated socially because of her money and her connections, but she is a scandal and you are making a fool of yourself. Everyone is speaking of it. You are an embarrassment Jack - you don’t have the means or the standing that she does to survive the humiliation of this. She will chew you up and spit you out. And then what? Your career, your reputation in tatters. Have you no dignity?”

He stood up and put his glass back on the cabinet, “I think you have said enough. I see now why you called in. You wanted to insult Phryne and insult me. We could have skipped the pleasantries and that would have saved us both time.”

“No Jack. That isn’t it. You have misread me, as usual.”

Jack gave a polite smirk, “I thought you just made your opinions perfectly clear. What was it about hussy, scandal, embarrassment and reputation that I misunderstood?”

“I just wanted to warn you, to help you.” She made no move to leave, but stretched out her legs in front of her and crossed her ankles, slipped the stole from her shoulders which fell onto the floor, and continued, “I wanted to say that if you need me, to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, which you will undoubtedly want to do, I’m here for you. I always will be…..”

Jack refused to respond so she continued, “Things, things could be different for us, between us. Don’t you think? We have both had other… experiences now. Aren’t we ready for another try? We could approach things …otherwise.” 

Jack walked over to her, and picked up the stole, and with a rather inscrutable look, held it out to her, “Come on, it’s time to go home. How did you get here? Are you in a car?”

“Daphne dropped me off.”

Jack was aghast. She was in his home, it was nearly midnight, with no means of transport to leave. “I shall drive you back to your place then. Excuse me while I go and get dressed.” 

Jack strode to his bedroom, closed the door behind him, and pulled on some clothes, his mind a whirl. So Phryne had been right, (why was he not surprised?), Rosie was making overtures for a reconciliation. He felt strangely liberated in being able to so coolly and calmly reject her. He was pleased he felt nothing apart from being irritated by her invective, but was not hurt by it; and some considerable annoyance at having to drive her home at this hour. For her as a person, there was no pang of regret, no spark of appeal, no temptation.

They sat in silence in the car until Jack felt he needed to say something to break the ice,  
“So how are things at Daphne’s? Do you still like living there?”

“Yes, I feel part of the furniture now. We have always got on well. Not that I wouldn’t like my own place again. It’s nice having a sister so close.”

“Yes, it is. I wish I lived closer to Cath.” 

“You still write regularly?”

“Every week. I always look forward to her letters and I like writing to her. I find it cathartic in some ways.”

“They are in the same home? In Balmain?”

“Yes, I imagine nothing much has changed since you were there.” He didn’t want to continue remembrance of things past so continued, “Did you tell Daphne why you wanted to be dropped at my place?” Silence from Rosie. “Is she expecting you home?”

Rosie shrugged her shoulders, “We didn’t speak in that much detail.”

“But you thought you would stay at my place?” 

“I had thought you regretted much of our marriage. We have a chance, Jack, to make amends. It could work you know.”

“If you think I have no misgivings you are wrong. There is much of our marriage I deeply regret. But I don’t wish to go back. It wouldn’t work. I have moved on and you need to as well. I thought you had.”

“What do you mean? With Sidney?”

“The fact that you moved out a long time ago, and whether you are still with Sidney or not is irrelevant as you obviously wanted someone else and were prepared to be married again. I am sorry things ended up with him the way they did.”

“How can you be so callous? I moved out of our home because it wasn’t working then. What I’m saying is that it’s time to give things another try - we never did that.”

“This evening you managed to make offensive remarks about those closest to me. I don’t think you could have put things in a way less likely to appear as a desire for change and reconciliation.”

“So you are happy then?” This was second time in a matter of weeks that he had been asked this question. 

He could answer unequivocally now,  
“Yes, very.” He hadn’t wanted to upset her and when he said it, he knew how hurtful it could have sounded. He changed the subject, “Your street, it’s left at the end of this road isn’t it?”

“Yes, and about half way down.” He heard her voice falter as a tear ran down her cheek, then another, then a faint sob. He felt his jaw stiffen and he sucked in his cheeks at her behaviour. She had used it so effectively, so often. The tears, then the consoling, the hugs, the kisses, then the giving in, the having it her way. How much he had learned.

He parked in front of the large terrace in the tree-lined street, pulled on the brake and switched off the engine. Despite the fact that he was unmoved by her tears he reverted to noble Jack, and handed her his handkerchief,

“Rosie, don’t please be upset.  
(What he wanted to say was that he wasn’t falling for the tears, not anymore)

“You are making it as difficult for yourself as it is for me. I am not the right person for you, you know that…  
(He actually meant that he knew she was not the right person for him)

“You have years of experience that are testament to it…  
(I know that now from being with Phryne) 

“I know I made you miserable…  
(You made me miserable)

“I haven’t changed enough for things to be any different between us…  
(You haven’t changed at all)

“You would regret it.”  
(I am desperately in love with someone else and I have changed so much as a result).

She dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief and sniffed, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.  
“Please Jack, I know we could be right for each other. You have changed, so much, I can tell. You may not realise it but you have. We could be happy. But we have to give it a chance.” 

His hands were on the steering wheel, and she reached over with the hand clutching his hankie and put it on his. He gently moved it back to her lap then got out of the car and opened the door to her. 

He walked her to the front door, and she put her arms around him. He responded, holding her and patting her back as he would a child, then firmly taking her by the upper arms, released himself. A faint cry emanated from her lips,  
“Good night Jack.” 

“Goodbye Rosie.” 

A curtain in the window fluttered as fingers withdrew.  
 


	22. Finale

South Yarra  
Wednesday 16 April

Dear Cath

You must be relieved that your life is without the interruption our visit provided! I can’t thank you enough for what you did for Phryne and me. That you and she are friends is what I had hoped, and you will also now understand why I am smitten.

The trip home went very pleasantly and I even admitted to liking driving the Hispano-Suiza. I assume you saw the article on the ballet in the SMH. Could you send me through some additional copies of it? We picked up one on the way through but I would like some extras.

There is a matter, an incident, that occurred on Monday night after our return that I wanted to tell you about. Phryne went back to her home and I had an unexpected visit from Rosie, quite late. It was extraordinary in that she managed to make disparaging remarks about our family, warned me off Phryne and then offered to reconcile and give our relationship another try. You will appreciate, I hope, that I rejected these advances. You would not expect me to entertain an arrangement that the courts, let alone emotions and feelings have so decidedly concluded? I went to Phryne’s last night as we had already arranged and told her of it. I had rather she heard it from me than through other means, with other possible interpretations. 

Work is uneventful so far, the tedium of trivia and catching up on cases all a contrast to the heady times spent with you!

I hope you will take up Phryne’s offer of staying with her when you can get away. It would be lovely to see you all again and soon. Please send my regards to Alec and love to Nev and Pam.

Love to you too of course,

Your affectionate brother,  
Jack

_____

 

East Balmain  
22 April

Dear Phryne

Thank you so much for your lovely letter and parcel that arrived today. I like the shade of lipstick very much and I have insisted that Alec take me out regularly so that I can wear my beautiful gown, the accessories and can be appropriately made up! Rest assured that there have been no recriminations in relation to the purchases, only praise.

I agree that it was important that you and Jack were able to talk about Rosie’s visit. It is far better he told you than left you ignorant of it. For him to have been able to talk about it is certainly advance. I did say you are good for him didn’t I? 

We have had some good news in relation to Kitty. She has been accepted into the next intake at Sydney Hospital and will be under the firm control of Matron Adelaide Kellett. She is rather formidable and will take Kitty on as her personal charge. She served in the war as an army nurse although she did not cross paths with Alec or me in that capacity. Alec knows her from his position on the hospital board and she is currently President of the Australasian Trained Nurses Association so there could not be anyone better. Kitty herself is delighted although she is not finding the transition off the narcotics very easy, unsurprisingly. However, she remains very determined and stoic. She regularly entreats me to send you her regards.

Clinic was very busy yesterday and there was much talk of the wonderful assistant who was with us for two weeks but no more. You were missed.

Your kind invitation to stay with you for a Melbourne visit we will give our attention – not that there is much chance of us not doing so as Pam and Nev speak of it constantly. We will have to see if Alec can take some leave during the next school holidays and coerce a colleague to run the clinic for us. I like the sound of the guest house in Tarcutta for an overnight stop, although I doubt it will have the romantic ambience you described with Nev and Pam in tow! 

I must now go and post this before I do the school run.

Thank you for taking such good care of Jack. You probably will never know what it means to me personally to know he is happy.

With kind regards,  
Cath


End file.
